Knives Fall
by Silverstardust99
Summary: The stories of the Victors are known; but what about the dead? Different deaths, different districts, different games.
1. Tredik Carro

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games and all of these are going to be short.

Okay! Here is the deal: These are all random deaths that I wrote. So far I have two others, and if you have any ideas, you can give them to me and I can dedicate that chapter to you. So enjoy.

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Tredik Carro (Age 18) male– District 6

Treading through the snow, with no threat present gives me the opportunity to think back on the events that landed me here. At first the Hunger Games seemed a joke; the Capitol was sure to call back the first set of twenty-four teenagers before they entered the arena. It would just be a scare to keep the Districts in line. Only they were never called back. Twenty-three died. One was victorious. It still didn't seem real though.

Maybe it takes a second time for reality to seep in; maybe that's why I'm here. I was chosen for the second Hunger Games, and only then did the facts present themselves. There was no way out. Twenty-three are going to die. The scariest is that I might be one of them.

The sun was high; but the air still had yet to be thawed. I watch as my breath clutches to the air, making a mist in front of my face. It was so cold. Even the trees showed death, not a leaf on them. There are only seven tributes left, I was this close. I think back to what my little, five-year-old sister Sauna told me.

When it was time to say goodbye to my family, Sauna had crawled into my lap, hung her small arms around my thick neck, and starred into my eyes for what seemed to be forever. "Sauna, you know I might not make it back." I say, trying to be gentle, and trying to break the silence.

"Of course you will make it. Where else would you go?" I hesitate, not wanting to brake the fantasy world she has fixated herself in. "Anyways," she lets go of my neck. "You're already this close." She said as she stretched her arms out as far as she could. I try to smile, for her.

I manage to let the faintest hint of a grin reach my lips as I think back to my naïve sister. I needed to make it back to her. A gust of wind blows by me and I clutch my jacket even tighter around my wide shoulders. My hair blows into my face, but I pay it no mind. I grip tighter on the jagged rock that I've been carrying.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a movement. I turn quickly; rock rose in high alert. My shoulders relax a little once I see that it is only a fox darting by. I calm down and my grin returns as I turn back around. It fades almost as fast. Someone had to scare the fox. I turn just in time to see the glint of a sword before it plunges through my chest.

I fall to the snow, my last image being red on white. My last thought being, _damn, I was that close. _

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Thanks for reading! Review! And even if you say this is terrible, I don't care because I'm going to keep writing. Review anyways.


	2. Katalia Zale

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

I was asked how many of these I was/am going to do. The answer is: as many as I can until I run out of ideas!

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Katalia Zale (Age 16) female – District 7

Alright, I admit it. It was a stupid idea to move that fast and not pay attention. It was a stupid idea to not go back for my pack. It was a stupid idea to run from a noise that was too soft to be human. Hell, it was a stupid idea to leave my cave in the first place. And maybe, if I weren't so stupid, and I stopped thinking up such stupid ideas, I wouldn't be suspended in this net forty feet off the ground. I wouldn't be panicking that every noise is a tribute coming to finish me off. I wouldn't be so hungry. Guess that's why they call it the Hunger Games, huh?

I only have my knife; my pack being dropped some hundred odd meters away. Stupid rabbit scarring me like that. I heard the light rustle in the bushes, and BAM! I took off like I was a scared rabbit. Along the way I ran into this inconvenient trap. I've been in this net for three days, and not only do I have rope burn, but I'm also not going to last much longer without food. I know it's the Gamemakers that set this trap. No tribute would be able to. And if a tribute did, they would have been back to finish me off by now.

I look at the hard, leaf-covered ground below me. If only I had paid attention! Then I could have avoided this! I could be the Victor of the seventh Hunger Games! But no, I just had to not pay attention. I hear a rustle below me and stop moving altogether. I even stop breathing. I watch as another one of those stupid brown rabbits hop out of the brush. Okay, I have to get out of here.

Analyzing my situation, the best way down would be to swing to the trunk of the tree and slid down. One problem: I don't have the strength to do that anymore. My only option then would be to cut the rope and hope that I survive the fall. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. _Come on Kitty_, _you can do this,_ I tell myself.

I lift my knife to the one-inch thick rope, and let out my breath as I drag my knife across the crosses in the netting. I feel the bottom let go and I grab to the sides. My plan is to lower myself as low as possible and to get into a position that I can survive. I grab the rope, but the second that I have it in my hand I know that something is wrong. I keep falling, turning in an uncontrollable plummet.

I feel the pressure on my neck before I feel it give way. _Snap! _I know that I'm dead even before I hear the deafening sound. It is rocks that the leaves layer. Stupid rabbits, this is your entire fault.

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Stupid rabbits. Just kidding, I love bunnies. :D Thanks to factorial. who reviewed! Hope you all enjoyed reading! Review!


	3. Kepps Tridate

Disclaimer: Yeah, not owning the Hunger Games.

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Kepps Tridate (Age 17) male – District 12

I let my toes sink into the muddy river valley. The cool earth seeps through my blistered toes; relieving them of all pain. I don't even know if I'm supposed to do this. I don't know if it will infect my feet. I'm past caring at this point though. Well, that's phrased wrong. I'm passed caring about problems that are not going to be presented until later dates. I let my eyes sink close for a few moments and let the sun dance on my eyelid, at peace for what seems the first time since the Games began.

Opening my eyes once more I'm startled to see myself being watched by the scrawny, little, fourteen-year-old boy from eight. He seems scarred and unarmed. Seeing him standing there, I offer a smile that he is slow to return. I don't see him as a threat. My brother back home is the same age.

The boy is watching me carefully, not moving closer, but not moving farther either. My expression changes to puzzled. "Do you want to sit down?" I offer, talking to him as if he were a friend, not one that had to die in order for me to make it back home.

The boy, still seemingly expressionless, shakes his head, "I'm fine where I am." I squint my eyes close in a suspicious manner, not sure what the boy is trying to do. My knife is tight in my hand if he tries any funny business. I can tell that the boy realizes this. "Do you have any food?" The boy asks beaming with curiosity.

I quickly glance at my pack, relieved that it is closed and not revealing any of my bounty. I turn to the boy; he seemed to have moved closer. Not by much, but a little. I pay that no mind. "No, I have no food left." I say, the lie falling easily off of my mouth. He might be the age of my brother; but he still isn't him.

"Then what's that smell?" He asks, his voice now accusing. I feel startled, but I keep my face expressionless. I'm starting to realize that this boy is not to be trusted. _But he is so small_, my mind contradicts.

"We're by a river. The smell would be fish." I say, my voice starting to sound like venom. The boy realizes it too, and starts to glare at me.

I'm matching his glare when I hear the splash. I don't even have time to turn and see who it is. I don't have time to raise my knife. I don't have time to call to the boy. Not that I would. The last image I see is that of the boy grinning. Blood coats my neck in a gleaming smile; the smile that would be my last.

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Not one of my best ideas, but it's still interesting. I guess you will all have mixed opinions about each one I write. If you have any ideas that you would like to share, please do. Thanks to Safira Rue Mellark and foxforever23 for reviewing. Thanks for reading! Review!


	4. Fallow Hyle

Disclaimer: I have yet to acquire the Hunger Games.

FYI: These stories aren't necessarily in chronological order. Thought you might want to know that.

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Fallow Hyle (Age 18) male – District 4

Nothing could be better. When I volunteered, I already knew that I had an advantage; I had been training for this. But nothing could prepare me for the unfathomable luck that was bestowed upon me in the arena. It was a chain of island, and the only way to get to each one was to swim. That's lucky District 4.

It became evident at the beginning of the Games that there were different resources on each island. And for that fact, many were wiped out. Hunger, thirst, and heat killed over half of the tributes, the ones who couldn't swim. And now, with only five left, I feel no need to worry. Who in their right mind would want to mess with me? I would laugh at anyone who says that they would.

I hoist myself up off of the beach. _Time to move to Shelter Island, _I think in my head. Normally, I would remove my shirt to swim, because I'm that sexy. But the material is waterproof, and the sun is high. Don't want to get unnecessary sunburns.

I tread out into the shallows until it goes up to my mid-torso. Then I dive in. the water is cool and refreshing on my skin. I cut through it with ease, not taking effort as some do. I'm about three-fourths of the way to the next island when I remember. My trident, I had left it. Cursing myself, I turn back around.

I can't help but notice how much darker the waters gotten. It was clear a moment ago, I could see the coral bottom. I ignore it and flip to my back, so I can close my eyes and relax as I swim. My eyes jolt open when I hear the thrash of water. I turn around; expecting to see a tribute. But all I see is a massive fin. And I know that it doesn't belong to a dolphin.

_Shark!_ There weren't sharks in the water before. I could tell. I know when sharks are present. I turn back to freestyle; hoping the one shark won't notice me. Then I notice it isn't one shark. It's hundreds. They are everywhere, circling below me, circling around me. _Just keep swimming, just keep swimming_, I think. If I don't make eye contact, maybe they won't see me as a threat. I'm going up for air when I see a massive thirty-foot shark beside me. Its beady black eye is staring at me. _Oh shit,_ I made eye contact.

It takes less than a second for the frenzy to begin. Sharks are attacking me from every direction, biting, then returning to the dark abyss below. My blood is tainting the water red. It doesn't take long for one of the sharks to land a decapitating blow. Yeah, lucky District 4 my super-hot ass.

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Seeing that each story is a different tribute, they might be funny, sarcastic, romantic, sad, scary, stupid, weird, ext. So, hope you enjoyed reading! Review!


	5. Malia Falion

Disclaimer: Still do not own Hunger Games...

I was thinking about not updating today, 'cause then I would have two less reviews than chapters, and I don't like differences of two.

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Malia Falion (Age 12) female – District 5

While squinting against the blinding sun, I am beginning to believe I'm dead. Everything is black; if not black then everything is nothing. Is this is what it's like to die? There was no pain, so I guess that was a good thing. Death wasn't something that preoccupied my twelve-year-old life until recently. I only started to think about it when I was reaped for the Hunger Games, to be exact.

I'm starting to think that this isn't so bad; I don't even remember stepping off the platform. I don't even remember the gong ringing for that point. Perhaps it was just a memory lapse though. That is the thought that convinces myself of that. Then I hear a noise, followed by feet running, which is in turn followed by a scream a few minutes later.

Panic surging through me I start to blink my eyes rapidly. I'm trying to regain my vision that was lost to the sun. Slowly, too slowly, it seems, my vision returns to me. And once it does, my eyes open as wide as they can. I see the battle raging in front of the Cornucopia. Why I have yet to be struck is a mystery. What a fool I must be, standing here, unmoving. I try to think of what my mentor told me. Move quickly, get supplies and run once the gong rings. But how long ago was that? I struggle to remember. Would it still count now?

I shake my head, I have to stop thinking. I need to let instinct take over. But what if I can't? Urr! I'm thinking again! Without another thought, other than the thought to not have another thought, I run to the Cornucopia. I just need to let instinct take over. I can do this. I run forward enough to swipe a loaf of bread. Such a small picking that I'm forced to go farther.

Dashing in another fifty meters I grab a brown backpack. I'm shrugging it onto my shoulders when I see him. The boy with the golden bow, and I know he will kill me without hesitation. So I don't hesitate. I turn and run for the safety of the bog. I see him take aim, and I try to run harder. As fast as I can, but I can't outrun the arrow. I can't dodge it.

It pierces the base of my skull, and I involuntarily let out a bloodcurdling scream. I land with a splash in the water, scarcely breathing. My eyes are still aware of everything. I can see him now. He is running towards me, coming to retrieve his deadly arrow from my dying body.

As his shadow falls over me, I let my eyes slip close. The numbing pain becomes a new wave of misery as the arrow's head is ripped from me. I let out yet another scream, and the boy knows that I have yet to die. It isn't long before his foot crushes my skull; showing me what death truly is.

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Hope you enjoyed reading! Review!


	6. Sakira Loyola

Disclaimer: I have yet to own the Hunger Games, and since that fact is so obvious, I will stop with the disclaimers. It will save me about thirty seconds. :D

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Sakira Loyola (Age 17) female – District 10

"I don't like _bugs_!" I shriek at Darius, my voice slightly cracking when I say the word bugs. And much to my disgust, Darius smiles at me and leans down to pick up the injured wasp. To make it worse he holds it out in front of my face. I shriek again, louder this time. Darius jerks back the bug and holds it in an almost protective position.

"Shush! You're going to let every tribute know our location if you keep this up. It's just a harmless little wasp; he won't hurt you." Darius says in a whisper, trying to calm me down. He isn't very good at it.

"Yeah, it's just one harmless wasp. Before you know it, there will be two harmless wasps. Then a whole swarm of them! Darry, you shouldn't play with him. Let's keep moving." Darius gave me a look that reminded me of a five-year-old, his brown eyes pleading with me to stay. I roll my eyes.

"Fine, Darry, real mature for seventeen. But when we get killed by a swarm of wasps, I blame you." I say. Darry gives me the crooked smile that he says is my smile; for I'm the only one he smiles like that for. I ignore him I stomp over to sit by the trunk of an overlying tree.

I observe in annoyance at Darius' attempts to heal the wasp. Or maybe it was fascination that he actually was able to do that. He was able to do similar things to livestock back in District 10. I let my eyes slip half-closed. It seems quiet, almost as if nature is at peace.

Then I hear the buzzing. It seems faint at first; but after concentration I realize that it is actually quite near. Very close, in fact. I look up to the tree to identify the source. I try not to scream when I see them. The trackerjackers, and there is a whole nest of them.

It was no wasp Darius was messing with. It was a trackerjacker. And it was only a matter of time before they all went for Darius. They didn't like when people messed with their own. "Darry, Run! It's a trackerjacker!" Darius looks at me for a moment, and then it registers. He drops the bug and runs to me. The buzzing increases. I know it's only a matter of time now.

Darius grabs my arm and starts to move me away. It's too late. The killers are upon us. The first sting was a shock; it was eventually followed by pain and more stings. After less than a minute, Darius and I fall. Hand in hand, side by side. Until death do we part.

Pain seeps through my veins. The venom brings visions of horror, but I see none of it. I might as well not even be in the arena. All I feel is the constricting of my throat as the venom swells my body. Suffocating, air source cut off, that is the cause of death. It is the same death I share with my love. And it is my love that I blame for my death.

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Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say. "Add more detail." Maybe some other chapter, but, this works better short. Why? 'cause I didn't want to write more. Lazy person ;D. Thanks to mockingjay1199 and District Thirteen for reviewing! Thanks for reading! Review!


	7. Yoshi Onyx

Haha! I'm not putting a disclaimer anymore ^^

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Yoshi Onyx (Age 13) male – District 8

My brother is two years older than me; he could have volunteered to take my place. But no, he decided to watch his baby brother go to his death. I hope he feels guilty if I die. I hope he feels that it is his entire fault. I guess I can't blame him though; I would have done the exact same thing had I been in his place. Call me selfish, but that doesn't stop me from being pissed.

I huddle myself closer together in the thorny brush. At this point, there aren't enough tributes that can make it into here. They are all too big, and they would shred their skin in the process. Well, except maybe that girl from three. I really do want to find out how she has made it this far; the stuttering girl never even finished her own sentences. I didn't consider her a threat at first, but maybe I should start.

I need water though, my bottle being nearly empty. There is a spring near where I stay. In my small alcove, I flip myself so I can crawl through the even smaller tunnel, out into the opening. I crawl with my head down, and once I reach where the opening should be, I feel a zap. Not powerful enough to kill me, but enough to make me jump into the top of the tunnel and poke myself.

I look towards the opening and see it covered with wire. It would be thin enough to break through; had it not been electrocuted. The District 3 girl is sitting on a falling log, watching curiously while her mousy brown hair is everywhere. She has a knife in her hand. She looks about thirteen to me, the same age that I am.

No one would have known that I was hiding here. I covered my footprints, took exaggerated routes to the spring; I had done everything necessary to make sure that no one would be able to find my hiding spot. So who figured out, and how? I would personally like to know.

I look around the clearing. No one else is present. "Please, can you help me get out of here?" I ask, begging her to help. She just shakes her head in a jerking, childish manner. "Please, the person who built the trap will be back to finish me off at any moment."

The girl's eyes narrowed. "I built–" she said, but then cut off. I waited a minute, but she didn't continue. It was as if her mind had finished the sentence before she herself had spoken it, therefore making it so she thought that she completed her thought. I finish off her sentence by saying she was the one who built the trap.

I look around once more. "Come on, we 13-year-olds have to stick together! We are basically the youngest in the arena! No one else will look out for us aside ourselves!" Unfortunately, my negotiation skills have never been top-notch.

The girl smiles a crooked smile; her eyes gleaming with success. I fill with fear as she raises her knife. She walks towards me, and I try to back away, I try to retreat to my alcove. But I'm stuck. She is looking at me right through the wire now; directly towards my eyes.

"Sixteen." Is all that she says. And I know that I'm dead even before she throws the knife, skewering the wiring and my head. Let the guilt flood on, Azentin, this is your entire fault.

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Hey you want to know a secret? The girl is Wiress. Though you could probably guess. Hehe. Yeah. :D Thanks for reading. Review! :D


	8. Xenna Niam

Still not putting a disclaimer! Hehe ^^.

I dedicate this chapter to all that are obsessed with chocolate. :D

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Xenna Niam (Age 19) female – District 2

"Happy 19th birthday, Xenna!" My friends and family shout while they are surrounding me, their mouths oddly distorted. I smile; the joy that I have made it to this age is overwhelming. I am about to be handed my present, which I already know what it is, when_ Bang_! I jolt awake at the cannon fire. It takes but a second for the thought to enter my head; yet another tribute lost.

For a few more moments I hold the hope that they will take me out of the arena; that they now found it unreasonable for me to be here. If today truly was the day that I thought it was, it could be possible. But no, after a moment, the obvious is stated and it is clear I'm not going back to Two soon. Oh well, I can return once I kill off the remaining four, err, three, tributes.

I blink twice, shake the remaining sleep off of my shoulders and look at my hand. I had been marking the days left with mud. Today was the eleventh day I have spent in the arena; my nineteenth birthday. I shouldn't be here now. Had I been born a few weeks earlier, I would positively not be in _this_ mess. I would not be in _this_ arena. I would have volunteered for the last game, and I would be on a freaking beach! I would not be splattered in mud.

I pick up my spear, for spears were the only weapons provided in the arena, and walk out of the cover of the brush. Savannah: that was the term that would describe the arena. Once you excited the brush, there were miles and miles of tall grass occasionally dispersed by one of those leafless trees. It was so flat that you could see the Cornucopia from miles around. Rather boring, if you ask me. The sun was high, as always since the rain, and I didn't even bother to lay low. My mud coating was camouflage enough.

I really wish that I had sunglasses. I put my hand over my eyes and look up, to try and tell the time. I see something in the sky glint off of the sun. Something that was silvery and metallic. A gift! The silver parachute barely was in my reach when I jumped up and snatched it out of the sky.

Once the package was in my hands I began to wonder. I was well off; I didn't need anything. I had been trained well, not only with weapons, but also with ways to gather food and water. So, only one possible idea came to me. Was it a birthday present? Hope building, I shred open the packaging, a smile already creeping onto my face.

It takes all my will not to shriek when I see the item that I have been given. It's chocolate! Actual chocolate! Dark chocolate! As in the sweet, delicious, mouthwatering chocolate! I love chocolate! By far the best birthday present ever, even though I get chocolate every year on my birthday! I always knew to expect chocolate; I just never knew to expect it in the arena.

My smile is not concealable as I take my first bite, the chocolate melting in my mouth just as all my worry is. I don't love chocolate; I am obsessed with it. An unhealthy obsession if you ask anyone who knows me well. But I don't care; chocolate is my Achilles' heel.

Not bothering to conserve my delicacy, I eat it within five minutes, licking my fingers even though they are coated in mud as well as chocolate. Once it is all gone, I look at my hands for a few minutes. It takes a while to convince myself that there really was chocolate. I let out a sigh and continue to walk.

No more than ten minutes later, I fall to the ground, concealed in darkness. I'm unable to move anything; but I feel a burning sting throughout my body. Although I hate to admit it, I know instantly that the chocolate was laced with a poison, a deadly poison. I lived for exactly nineteen years, just to be ended by what I loved most. All I can feel is betrayal. How, chocolate, how could you betray me like that?!

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I always imagined that if I were in the Hunger Games, this would be my death. I have an unhealthy obsession with sweet things. I love dark chocolate! I always wondered why mentors didn't send posion food to opposing tributes. So I say that after this little incident happened it became not allowed. Thanks to LunaPadma and :D (love the name by the way) for reviewing! Thanks for reading! Review!


	9. Delphi Apalla

Disclaimer: I'm going to add a disclaimer this time cause I need to procrastinate. The more I add the better. I do not own the Hunger Games. I repeat, I do not own the Hunger Games. Only Susanne Collins owns the Hunger Games. Yes, that is a fact believe it or not.

OMG!!! I have so much homework!!! I probably shouldn't be complaining too much, but seriously, I have to write three essays, do three sections of math, make a model of a cell, take notes on three chapters in history and watch a boring movie!

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Delphi Apalla (Age 14) female – District 9

I've always wondered how to distinguish between good and evil. The simple definition that I have always been told was that evil was the bad guy, the one who was trying to hurt you, the opposing force. I always thought that it was something deeper than that. More complicated, like an onion with many different layers. Because, when you think of it, were not you evil to the other person? So which is right; which is which? Is it completely a matter of opinion?

I ponder over this often, whenever one of my three older sisters complains about a certain person being 'evil'. That the people would spread rumors, or start them in a fist fight. I always would wonder the spark. What made them do those things? Everything has a ripple effect; even the smallest action. So where does evil begin? Having this knife to this boy's throat I'm starting to think that it is I who is evil. He was the opposing force, but I was the one trying to hurt him.

His brown eyes are gazing at me; glossy with tears that are forming, and will surely start falling soon. It is fear that is within him. And I am the evil one to him, the one who wishes to cause him harm. It seems odd to me; the boy is at least two years my senior, and could easily overpower me. He is faced against a wall of rocks with nowhere to run; but, it is hard to imagine why he isn't fighting back, for that is the only way he could escape. Perhaps it is because he does not want to be evil himself?

I tilt my head in curiosity; my white-blond hair falling into my eyes because it is too short to reach behind my ears. The knife is still tight across his neck; a thin stream of blood is starting to form, slowly migrating down his neck. I watch it flow, a line of red on white, yet it seems to be cleaning some of the dirt that the arena has given to him. The boys hazel eyes close; shutting off what I feel is the only way for me to predict what he is going to do next. I feel a war raging inside of me. To kill or not to kill; that is the question.

But if I let him go, what are the chances that I too will survive? I realize now that the tables will easily turn, and as soon as I let him go I may very well brace myself against the rock as he does now. The sooner he is dead, the quicker that I can return home. But once my knife slits his throat I have become the source of evil. I have become the spark.

He is staring at me now. Almost unblinking it appears. As if he is challenging me to release him. Though it probably is for worse, I have never been one to back from a challenge. As soon as the knife reaches my side I know that I have made a mistake. "Thank you," Says the boy quietly as he grabs my shoulder. "Sorry." My eyes widen as the force of his arms switches my position with his, soon after slamming my head against the rock.

For a moment, everything moves slowly. I see the expression in his eyes: sad but hopeful. Perhaps it is even regret that he feels. I could scream; I'm in as much pain to do so. It would reveal his location to the others. Make them hunt him. But I hold my silence, determined to stare him down until I can no longer. My legs give way, leading me to the ground, to where I wait for death in the sanctity of my mind. My eyes are unable to open, and I know that I have lost contact with the living.

It is he who is evil, he who has injured me so. Or, perhaps that is not the case. Perhaps, it is not he, but a rock that started this ripple effect. He was just one of many that were caught in the path. Perhaps, not even the Capitol is the rock, even though they are the ones that started the Game. Maybe it is not even the Rebellion, who provoked the Capitol. Perhaps it moves even farther back than anyone can remember.

Everything affects everything; nothing is of exception to this rule. I realize that I will never find the original cause to everything. I realize that I will never know the answer to everything. I also realize that these ripples must be stopped before they move any farther. I find it a shame that I only figure this out now; when I am unable to do anything about it.

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This is me rambling philosophically. Either that or you thought that it was really cheesy. Take your pick. Sorry for not updating sooner. In case you couldn't tell by my complaining, I have homework. Hehe. So I hope you enjoyed reading, and please review! :D ^^ :D


	10. Rigg Wired

This isn't a death during the Hunger Games, but it happens just before it. I felt that I had to add the second part.

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Rigg Wired (Age 15) male – District 3

The despair of the moment crushed onto my small, frail shoulders. I got up from my bed in the training center and walked the short distance down the hall to the elevator. Each step I felt my organs sinking lower and lower to the floor. After three days of training, it was clear I was not adroit with anything. From survival and weaponry, I was an epic fail. And my training score proved it.

It is not really a surprise; I was born with a crippled leg. My other appendages weren't in the best shape either. It was unfair to put me in the arena. I wouldn't even make it far from the Cornucopia before someone killed me. They gave me the score of 2; the worst of the Games yet. It was that little detail that finalized the depression that was already hovering above me. I felt it unnecessary to even lift my eyes open to the fullest. So I pressed the button on the elevator labeled 'R' with half closed slits.

I had never been to the roof, but I had heard people talking of it. I decided that if I was incapable of sleeping I might as well have some fresh air. Perhaps that might take off my depression. Once I stepped off of the elevator, it came clear that no such thing would happen. My depression stayed, if it did not worsen.

I took heavy steps to the railing. It seemed unfair that the other teenagers entering the arena would probably give me a death worse than I deserved. They wouldn't make it quick in painless. They would elongate it; they would make sure that I suffered until the end. I wish almost now that I could at least have the freedom to choose my own death.

Then the idea occurs to me, and the slightest bit of hope returns. I look over the edge of the railing and I see the thirteen story drop to the bottom. I see the cars, the people, and the hard cement that would surly mean my death if I was to 'accidently' fall.

A smile reaches my mouth as I barely manage to climb on top of the rails. I look to the sky for what I guess to be the last time. All of the stars are present, and the moon is full, like they want to wish me into their realm. I take a breath and shove my small body off of the guarding. I was still smiling, because I was free to choose my death.

It was like flying. The air rushed by, but not in a way that made it scary. It seemed to take forever, as if the ground would never reach. In that time I couldn't help but think; what if? What if I had gone into the arena and faced the others? Would I have stood a chance?

Before the answers come to me, I reach the ground. The earth shattering impact must be enough to break every bone in my body. But I feel none of it once one of my broken ribs impales my heart.

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"What shall we do?" I ask hesitantly to the Head Gamemaker, Vorcious Titan. The broken body of the boy lied in front of us. Vorcious seemed to consider the matter for a while; his face was scrunched in displeasure. I knew that he probably wanted to take three more tributes from District 3 as a punishment.

"We shall place his dead and broken body into the arena for all to see. He will rise up on the platform for the others. As a reminder that nobody is free from our punishment, no matter the condition." I nod to the proposition and start forward to call an Avox to move the body.

"One more thing," says Vorcious suddenly. "I want a forcefield placed around that roof to prevent this from happening again."

"Of course, Vorcious." I say, and then I turn back. I glance at the boy once more, and I notice that he is smiling. I look quizzically at him, or his body, I should say, and then turn away just as soon.

"What are you doing, Seneca?" I turn up to Vorcious.

"What? Oh, I'm going to call for an Avox, to carry the body." I say.

"Carry it yourself." He says, and then he turns away. My nose scrunches in distaste. I always figured that Vorcious didn't like me because I'm the youngest and newest. But the other Gamemakers have told me it's because I'm spineless.

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Ok! Hope that you enjoyed reading. Thanks to CapitolPress and Lunapadma (once again) for reviewing! Please review! I like reading reviews ^^ Oh yeah, for those of you who don't know, their making a Hunger Games movie. Also for those of you who do not know, even though it is near impossible, I want to play Katniss. No, I don't have professional acting experience, but I'm really good at acting. Anyways, so I hope you enjoyed reading, I say once again! Review! :D


	11. Dulicit Harrow

Disclaimer: This top part just seems empty without me saying that I don't own the Hunger Games...

A story of betrayal! Idea granted by Pinneappletampoline! Don't get me wrong, I still have plenty of ideas. But, if you give me an idea, I feel compelled to write it.^^

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Dulicit Harrow (Age 15) male – District 11

I never understood why they trusted me. Why they are letting me guard them as they sleep. Silly, all I said was that I would look over them. There is always the chance that they aren't fully asleep, as I never am when they guard. Or maybe they don't think that a scrawny little fifteen-year-old from eleven means them any harm. It was a last minute decision to join the Careers. I almost lost my life in the negotiation.

If I guarded them as they slept, made sure to wake them at danger, they would let me live. All I had to do was swear my life to that. I had to say that I would do them no harm. So I swore on my life. The problem for them is that to me, those are just words. Just words that supposedly have a greater meaning, but to me it is just sound. I find if foolish to believe what people say. Humans are not a species to be trusted.

I stare up at the stars. They seem too bright and happy to belong here, in this place of death. Maybe they promise what is to come, happiness. I watch the dancing light, but find myself unable to stare for too long; I can't distract myself from the task for too long. I turn back to the sleeping Careers. I have waited three hours until I was sure they entered deep sleep. I need to make sure that my deed would be able to be completed.

They were still asleep. One was snoring, but I knew that one could be on the border of reality and dream. As an experiment, I whispered, "Wake up." Waiting a few seconds, I find that my words have no effect on them. My mouth twitches into a smile. My thin fingers constrict around the hilt of my knife. Slowly I stand up, and slither to my first victim.

I crouch to my knees and lean over the beautiful girl from One. Her curly, golden hair encircles her head in a halo. It seems odd to me, for I have seen this girl kill, and she was anything but an angel. I think of the little red-headed girl fall to the arrow, and my knife slides across her neck. I grit my teeth, and prepare to flee; but the girl makes no noise. She is dead, and I can move to the next. I think that it is the thought of the little girl dying at her hands, but I feel no regret for ending this girl. I stand up, and I hear the cannon fire. My eyes open widely.

I had forgotten about the cannon. I look around, scanning the opening in a mere two seconds. Two seconds that I could have used to flee. The others are opening their eyes; they realize what happened. I let out a ragged breath that should belong to an old man at the end of his life, and turn to run. It seems that I am imprisoned in molasses. I can't run fast enough to escape the heavy arm that wraps around my neck.

In a blur, I'm flung to the ground. I look up and I see myself surrounded by the three Careers that remain. My breathing if rapid and heavy and I now think that there is a possibility that I will die of oxygen deprivation. I'm blinking just as rapid, maybe something in me believes that one time I will open my eyes and they won't be there. They are talking, but I can't comprehend their words. I'm frozen in fear.

The District One boy scrunches his face in distaste and raises his spear. When it drops, it impales my heart, stopping my breathing, and my eyes get one last glimpse of the stars before they close permanently.

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Ok, I hope you enjoyed!!! Thank you to Pinneappletrampoline (sorry if I spell your name wrong...but it is long), Choco13, Realityshowfan, and Lunapadma for reviewing! And thank you to everyone who has read thus far! Please review!!! I like reading reviews!!!^^


	12. Loquie Trims

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games

Once again, this idea is contributed by Pinneappletrampoline! The girl who dropped her token. Don't worry, I'll get to everyone's ideas soon enough, but I'm going in the order that I received them. Enjoy.

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Loquie Trims (Age 16) female – District 8

My breathing is shallow and every part of my body is shaking. It's not the ice-cold of the tundra that makes me shiver (I'm wearing a heavy coat that reflects heat): It is fear. I have felt fear plenty of times before, but not to this magnitude. When I was caught outside past my curfew in District 8 by a Peacekeeper, I felt fear. For, my father beats me if I am found by one other than a family member at such hours. When I had to climb into the machine to untangle thread, I felt fear. For if it started again before I got out, I would be skewered.

And now, on this platform, looking out on the bare tundra, I feel fear. For one mistake, and I will die. I clutch my token tighter – a small ball that was given to me by my best friend – and close my eyes trying to imagine a better place. After a second I open them again, but I realize that I'm still here. I feel myself begin to tremble even more. My breathing is still uncontrollable. My shoulders are hunched against my neck. I can feel a tears racing down my face. I must have only been out here for fifteen seconds.

I move my eyes around, only catching quick glimpses of the other tributes; not comprehending what most are doing. I can tell that some are staring at me though. My tears race down faster, and I try to hang on to my marble even tighter. My hands won't allow it though, they continue to shake.

_Quint rushed through the door faster than the Peacekeepers could open it. I was wrapped in his tight embrace before I could even look up. Tears had already soaked my face. I hadn't been able to stop crying since they called my name at the reaping._

_"Q-Q-Quint -" _

_"Shh, don't cry Loquie, don't cry. Try to be strong. You need to try okay? I know you can try. Look, you do have strengths. You are fast, and stealthy. You have a chance." I knew that he was trying to comfort me, but I couldn't help it. I started to bawl even harder._

_Quint released me and reached into his pocket. He brought out his hand in a tight fist. He then revealed to me the shiny blue shooter. At sixteen, Quint was the best marble player in the district. And this was his lucky shooter. I look at it wide eyed._

_"I've never lost a game with this. Take it as your district token. Maybe you won't lose this game. Not yet." He dropped it into my violently shaking hands. I looked down. My hands had stopped shaking. I look back at him, tears still streaming down my face, but somehow a little more comforted than before._

_Quint shook his head. "It's alright. I don't need luck. You don't either, but I figured that you just needed the mental support." He offered me one last grin, and left. He was my friend to the point that he didn't even say goodbye anymore. He always knew that he would see me soon enough._

My hands had started shaking again once I was placed on the platform. My fear had returned once I was faced with the reality once again. It's been forty seconds. My hands are shaking out of control now. I close my eyes, shutting off the world. My hands jerk violently, and I feel the marble slip out. I'm not coordinated enough to catch it. My eyes open wide enough to intake my entire surrounding in a horrible realization and my ears become acute enough to hear the marble drop.

My whole body gets ripped apart by the force of the explosion. I die before the Games begin. It was the one game that the marble lost, and the game that was most important.

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Ok! I hope you enjoyed, this was quite fun to write. Thank you to Pinneappletampoline (Idea giver of this story, so I must say thanks within these parenthesis), Safira Rue Mellark, Life on a Cloud, Realityshowfan, LunaPadma, and +Kaityy for reviewing!!! This is starting to be a long list... Thanks to all who read!!! I hope you enjoyed, I say once again!!! Review!!!


	13. Valia Thorn

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the Hunger Games. Thanks for asking.

This is Haymitch's final battle, idea contributed by Choco13!(Slowly but surely I will complete all ideas submitted. Unless I don't understand them.)

I try to keep to the book, but I felt as if she had to be screaming.

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Valia Thorn (Age 17) female – District 1

I couldn't conceal the scowl on my face. The top of the left side of my mouth was arched in what was either pain or annoyance. I clutch my battle axe in my hand; the weapon that has been my choice since I was a young child. The coal rat had to be around here somewhere. It was only five minutes ago that he had run off to the hedges that lie just outside the forest, and I could track him easily. He was leaving a trail of blood.

I could wait it out until he dies from his wounds; it shouldn't be much longer, I had injured him to the point where he had to hold in his intestines. But there is no glory in waiting for victory by default. I felt the need to watch him intake his last breath of life. After forty-six deaths, I feel that it is time for the end of Haymitch Abernathy.

Our fight has been one to thrill all in the Capitol: My axe versus his knife. And he no longer has his knife; I disarmed him in our battle. That is when he ran. Even so, it is my axe that will soon to be victorious. I consider my own wounds to not be immediately life-threatening. I feel the blood flow down the gash that the rat had impacted on my right arm and my mid-torso. The worst of my injury is the right eye that I no longer own. The blood from that is all but blinding the eye that I have left. While my injuries are no laughing matter I know the rat has it worse. I will soon put an end to that though.

I push through the last of the bushes and find myself on the edge of a cliff. I see Haymitch, barely standing, at the border between the arena and oblivion, and my scowl eases into a cynical smile. He is holding in his internals and I can see the trail of his blood has gotten thicker during his sojourn. I start to wonder why he is still standing, but I quickly demolish that thought. I can't have distractions now; I've made it too far to mess up.

The rat manages to keep his face in the scowl that he has so well been able to hold throughout the Games. I should be surprised to why he isn't grimacing in pain, but this only makes me let out a shrill laugh. The victory is so very close. My axe is raised with my left arm; the action is so familiar it can be performed by mere instinct. The axe is released and the sharpened blade is flung towards the rat's head with a precise, life-ending accuracy.

The action that is so methodical to me, I knew that I couldn't miss. There was no chance for his death to not come, at least not by my error. I would never expect any other possible errors than that of my own. I would never expect him to duck in his condition. But he does.

He doesn't duck; it's more like he leaned down to dodge, but in his condition, he fell. And my axe plummeted into the bottomless abyss. My lip twitched several times before raising into a scowl of fury. My axe was gone. I feel my sanity leave with my axe. I look at his scarcely breathing body that is lying in a puddle of blood, barely living. I bring my hand up to try to stop my eye socket from bleeding. The gushing of blood over my hand further drives my insanity. I start to scream.

"You think you're funny, rat? Is that what you think? You actually believe you can make a fool of me? Well think again! Look who is going to die, the one who is holding in his guts, not the one who can fight! Not the one who is stronger! Not the one who spends his life begging for the scraps that the Capitol leaves behind! There is a reason that One comes before Twelve! And now I'm going to outlast you just like I would if I never Volunt –"

The blade impales my forehead just above my eyebrow line, wedging itself deep inside my skull. It takes but the moment before I die to realize that it is my axe. My axe, the one that should have brought me victory, is the one that brought victory to a rat. My body crumples to the ground, but before my eyes close eternally; I notice something. Haymitch too is crumpled lifelessly on the floor. And that brings about my final question in life: Who is to be crowned Victor if all have died in battle?

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Okay. Hope you enjoyed. These are quite fun to write. For reviewing I'd like to say thanks to: LunaPadma, Sir Edgar of Edgarton, girlonfire42, Realityshowfan, Safira Rue Mellark and WritingIsLife8! Long list, it makes me happy to write such^^ Read and Reveiw! :D


	14. Sparrow Anaira

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Yet.

Ok, this is how I imagine my friend would die in the Hunger Games. Excuse the language at the end, but that is probably what she would say.

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Sparrow Anaira (Age 14) female – District 2

I look behind me for a second, but turn around just as quickly. I thought I heard something. It must just be my imagination though. It typically is. I tend to be paranoid when I'm in an arena with twelve others that are trying to kill me. I tend to recall the last conversation that I had with my best friend when I become paranoid, like I am now.

_She had sat on the edge of the couch, looking at the ground, not saying anything. "Well?" I questioned. "Are you not going to try to tell me that I might make it back alive? That I have a chance to make it?" For a moment, I feel hopeful._

_"Nope. No way. I'm not going to lie. You are going to die, no doubt. I'll probably put my money on the first hour. Knife through the throat. Yup, you're screwed. No point in being optimistic." I glare at Luray, my eyes squinting._

_"You're not even going to try to say that I might make it? Or at least lie and say you're going to bet money on me winning, and once I get back, you will give me half of those winnings?" I say, even though I already know the answer._

_"Nope. No point. You aren't ready yet. You haven't trained enough. Maybe you would have been in a few years; but until then you can't fight. I gotta go. Enjoy your death. Maybe it will be fast and painless. Doubt it though." She says this emotionlessly._

_I jokingly punch her in the arm. "Wow, Luray. Thanks." For a moment she lets her facade slip, and I can see a hint of a smile for a second._

"_What? It's true, and you know it. Bye." I glare as she leaves the room. Only Luray would do that; only Luray. But she wouldn't give me that act unless she thought that I had a chance of winning._

I'm guessing that she lost a good sum of money, if she was serious. I now made it past the first week in a half. I grinned. _In your face, Luray_. Maybe I did have a chance. I kept striding through the brush; it seems a new swing in my step.

I made it through the first week running with the Careers. Being from District 2, a common Career district, I was able to join the alliance easily. One night, when I was on watch in the meadow we had made our camp, I ran for it. Since then I have been thriving on my own. Of course I stole half of their supplies and destroyed the other half. I wouldn't just leave without injuring their chances.

I don't notice as I reenter that meadow. I don't notice as I step on one of the Career's stomach. Leave it to me to not pay attention. I look down; perhaps he did not notice my foot crushing his organs. I soon realize that I have no such luck. He is getting up; a deadly looking mace in his hand. Deviant's eyes were blinking open. Time to run.

I turn back to the forest and realize that I'm surrounded by Careers. Five are left. There is no way out. I'm trapped. If I run, I get a sharp, pokey object through my back. I'm starting to realize that Luray was right. I didn't have a chance. But… I might as well fight to the end. First to have some fun.

"Hey. How goes it? See you have been keeping alive since I last saw you. Barely. Any problems other than that?" I ask casually.

Deviant speaks, keeping his voice steady. "It goes okay. I have seemed to have recently developed a stomachache."

"Yeah, you should probably get some manganese. It is a natural laxative you know." I say with a grin.

"Not that _kind_ of problem." He says icily.

"Well sorry. How should I know?"

"Because you caused it." He says while he starts to swing his mace. Uh-oh. "Any last words?"

As a response, I raise up my hands, as if I am surrendering. The unemotional faces of the Careers are staring at me confused. I lower two fingers on each side of the middle. They have a quintessential response: Rage fills their faces. I grin and take notice of my sword slung to my side. I try to figure how fast that I can reach for it.

While they are still either fuming or in shock about me flicking them off, I run for it. I grasp my sword and prepare to raise it to fight. The boy that I suggested laxatives to feels my blade first. I hear his cannon fire as I stick my sword into a girl that has appeared at my side. Yet another cannon.

I am in the middle of the two small ones when I feel spears simultaneously enter my back. I manage to turn to one and slit their throat before I fall to the ground. Surprisingly my face is directed to the sky. Using my last breath I yell out "Fuck you all!"

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Ok! Sorry I haven't updated in forever, but I have a lot of hw, and exams are next week. In fact, I might not be able to update until mid-April. *gasps* Anyway, I have a lot of ideas that were given to me partially writen, but there isn't enough time in a day to edit them. I don't like to have too many errors. Thanks to Realityshowfan, LunaPadma, WritingIsLife8, Fishpony, mymockingjay, Safira Rue Mellark, Sir Edgar of Edgarton, and Life on a Cloud for reviewing and giving me ideas!!!


	15. Titus Kahn

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games...

Okay, by popular demand I give you: The Death of Titus!!! Idea suggested and therefore dedicated to: Claratrix LeChatham and Realityshowfan!!!(BTW: Don't even think about commenting on grammar for this one XD)

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Titus Kahn (Age 17) male – District 6

"Me is the best in the arena. Me is going to win. Me is going to eat the hearts of all the little children. No zappy thing hurt me. Me is going to kill all." _Come on Titus, think straight. Think logically. You are smart. You're not really like this._ "Me like this now." _No! You're not! You are sane! Don't turn into this! Why, oh why, did I ever let myself eat that first heart? Then all of this insanity could be avoided! I mean look! You even sound insane! "_Me not insane, you insane." _I am you, you retard! Wait, did I just call myself a retard? Great, now you make me sound like a retard, retard! That made no sense, did it? "_You makes no sense."

Titus turn to look down at boy. "Scared boy look at me funny. Why boy look funny?" The boy penned to the ground looked confused. The knife to his throat added to him the feeling of terror. That face look funny to Titus.

"You're insane." He says, while gasping for air. _Thank you! Somebody agrees with me._

"No the voices in my head are insane." Titus says angrily, while slitting the boy's throat. The cannon fired his death. "Ha-ha! Titus be stronger than you! Titus win again! Me eats your heart now!" _No, bad Titus. Don't eat the heart. Remember last time? You got freaking sedated! That means heart eating is bad. Heart equal bad. Don't eat the heart Titus. Put down the heart, you incompetent idiot! _Titus didn't like the voices in his head though. He didn't like listening to them.

"Shut up, voices. I no like you. Go away!" _You idiot! You're going to get shocked again! You know that zappy thing? Yeah, that's going to happen again, so just leave the heart alone! No! Drop the heart! Don't – Erg, now you've done it. Any moment now, that zappy thing is going to get you. You should have listened to me! You can still drop the heart; there is still a chance that the zappy thing won't come. _"No believe you, no zappy thing come to shock yet." It was true: The sky was eerily clear, not even a cloud. The wind still whirled about, but none of it effected Titus. Titus was stronger than the wind.

Titus finish eating heart, blood dripping from his mouth. Titus clumsily wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up. "No zappy thing hurt Titus! The voice in head is wrong! Me is invincible! Me is king of mountain!" Titus roared that last part, with his fists raised to the sky, and it seemed like the whole mountain shook with his power. Along with the snow. Within moments, giant avalanche came hurdling towards Titus. It seemed to move slow, but that was because it was so big.

_You! Me! Whatever! You are going to be killed if you don't run for your freaking life! Run, Titus, run! _"Ha, me no scared of snow wall. Me king of mountain, me no get hurt –"My last words were cut off by the hard impact of snow, and my sanity flew back into control. Twirling down the mountain cut off from oxygen seemed to do the trick. How had I let myself get to that point? I knew that I would probably die now. Here, in the dark glow of snow that surrounds me. I open my mouth for air, but all that rushes in is the ice cold taste of snow.

If only I hadn't eaten that first girl's heart! I thought it was a good idea, a way to get Sponsors. How was I to know that it would turn me insane? And now, well, damn. I'm going to freaking die, from asphyxia of all things! All the oxygen I had from my last breath is fading. Any moment I will lose consciousness. Suddenly, my head smashes against a boulder as I tumble, smashing it, and bringing the cannibal that I have become out of the arena forever.

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Yeah, my semester starts tomorrow and I need to get all of my terrible grammar out of my system^^ Lol. My English teacher will still have hell grading my mistake-riddled papers. I don't have my book, but I think I got all of Titus' details in there. If not, feel free to correct me:) Thanks to WritingIsLife8 (I still might get sporadic updates before mid-April), Realityshowfan (Acknowledged this chapter was your idea first) , Shadowcaster4444 (Haha, I get it. Four 4s) , Your Royal Highness Sir Edgar (Cato's death... Hum... *grins evilly*), LunaPadma (OMG!!! Thanks for always reviewing^^) , Claratrix LeChatham (Realityshowfan beat you to this idea, but yours gave me a reason to post it:D), and Good Undone (So many name changes^^) for reviewing! It makes me so happy, a total of 7 people! Sorry if I forgot anyone! ^^ I am obviously procrastinating from work that needs to be done^^


	16. Paracias Alter

I probably should be studying for the four tests I have tomorrow... but hey! Procrastination is the main quality of an IB student^^

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

This idea was given, therefore dedicated, to Fishpony!!!

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Paracias Alter (Age 16) male – District 3

The possibilities that the arena offered gleamed of the metallic surface of the items strewn around the junkyard. I knew the instant that I was raised in front of the Cornucopia that there was an endless possibility for weapons. My mind was racing with the options, and now I held in my hand one of the very things I had thought of that first day. My finger lied loosely on the trigger of my hand-made machine gun.

We still had to check out if it worked: We being me and my district partner Talilie. We decided to climb down from the skeleton of a car that we used as base and go to the valley of the trash heaps to try out my weapon. The plan we decided on was to shoot some cans to make sure that it worked. I had a different plan. I was going to shoot at Talilie on the second shot.

It's not that I am a traitor. Well, actually if you look at the definition I kind of am a traitor, but I don't mean to be. Well, no, I do mean to be. But that's not the point. There are only seven tributes left. I would just tell Talilie that it is time to separate, but then she might be killed by another tribute. I don't think that she deserves the death that they will give her, so I figured that a bullet through the head will be the fastest end and the least painful for her.

I am sitting on a metal trashcan now, readying my weapon. Talilie is still in the distance, setting up the can for the test fire. I can see that she is ready, because she starts sprinting back to me. Talilie has always been the faster one. At school, no one can beat her in a race. She comes to a halt beside me and whispers, "Ready when you are, Captain." I grin at the silly nickname that she gave me the first day in the Training Center.

"Ready. Start the countdown to victory, Pilot." Her fourteen-year-old grin expands with delight. At least she is happy in her last moments. I carefully aim the gun at the can that she set up one hundred and fifty yards away and wait for her order.

"And in: three, two, one, fire!!!" I pull the trigger at fire and the blast almost sends me off of my perch on my trashcan. The noise is still echoing through the dunes of metal when I recollect myself. I look to where the can had rested and see that it is there no longer. I can't help but smile at the fact that my machine works. I look to Talilie and see that she is still grinning. She turns to face me, "I'm going to set up another can. Good shot, Captain."

I watch her sprint in the distance and search for another can. I ready my shot. I'm about to aim when I hear the bark. I freeze. The thought flashes through me with the echo of the noise: Guard hounds. Talilie is running back to me now, and I know that she recognizes the sound. I'm still frozen, but her movement jolts me back to life. We need to start climbing. So I do start and I drop my gun in the process. I know that Talilie is fast enough to pass me even with my head start.

The way the mound works, you have to find a specific path up. If not, you might get cut if you go to fast, or you might fall down the whole mound. Talilie and I found only one path to the car that we made our home. I needed her though; there was an elevation that was nine feet up: You had to have two people to climb it. She would have to sprint the one-hundred and fifty meters to the head of the trail and then sprint up the path to escape the hounds. I'm one-fourth up. Unsurprisingly I turn around to see Talilie close on my tail, and the hounds sprinting across the valley towards us.

"Get ahead of me, Talilie!" I call, and I see her stray from the path for a few seconds to pass me up. She quickly takes lead of me. While I'm painting she isn't struggling. We have made it half-way up now. I turn around to see the hounds at the base of the heap and for a second I feel relief. Then I see that they are starting to climb. They are slower than Talilie, but faster than me. But I was almost to the landing.

I pick up my sprint and meet a frightened Talilie at the base of the landing. I skid to a stop and lean down on my knees, a familiar routine, but the speed allows the metal scraps to dig into my flesh, drawing blood. "Get on my shoulders, Talilie."I feel the weight of her feet as she steps onto my shoulders, and I shakily stand up. She grabs onto the ledge and heaves herself up. The weight is released from me. She flips herself around to help me out. Her eyes go wide.

"Paracias!" She screams, and I make the mistake to look behind me. I turn in time to see the first of the hounds jaw impale my ankle. I make an attempt to reach for Talilie's outstretched hand, but it's too late. With an unnatural strength, it drags me to the rest of the pack, were I am made into their next feast. The pain rips through me, and I hear Talilie's heartbreaking screams. I know she can do nothing. I close my eyes and I hope that the end come soon. I think of the painful death that I was trying to prevent for Talilie.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter!!! Thanks to Logical Guesses, WritingIsLife8, snowhiskers, LunaPadma, Manawyrmz, and Clara for reviewing my last chapter!!! Read and Review, it gives me happy moments in my homework filled life!!! So much homework... On the plus side I have an ACCA day and a three day weekend coming up!!!


	17. Cato Elixar

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Yay!!! No school for me tomorrow!!! In order to celebrate, I present to you: The Death of Cato!!!

Of course, this was requested by two people, so that's why I post it. Therefore, the Dedication goes to Your Royal Highness Sir Edgar and LunaPadma!!!

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Cato Elixar (Age 18) male – District 2

I hold the boy in a headlock on the head of the Cornucopia. He is injured and can't fight back. I, on the other hand, am strong enough to snap his neck in an instant. I hear the barks of the mutant wolves bellow me and try to forget that just minutes before I had looked into the eyes of Thresh once again. They are all there; all of the dead tributes. Not one had been left out, not even Clove… I snap back to attention.

The girl raises her arrow to shoot, but I call out a warning. "You shoot; He dies." My eyes shift to the hounds for a second, and I think of the boy tumbling with me to their jaws. I dart back to the girl. She is drawing back her bow. I look puzzled, and she releases. No remorse on her face, and a look of deadly accuracy. The same look that Clove had when she through knives. And that was a look that I knew better than to doubt. I look down to my arm, and see the X that the boy has made on my hand. Shit. Things keep getting worse.

I can't think before the arrow enters my hand, making me release the boy and sending me tumbling backwards off of the Cornucopia. For a second, I wish that the fall will kill me. But it doesn't. The impact barely knocks my breath out. Almost instantly the hounds are upon me. I bite my lip and close my eyes, preparing for the pain. All I feel is an immense pressure. It is the same pressure that I felt when I was training, we wore chainmail, and each time I was incapable of deflecting my trainer's sword, I would feel pressure, but no blood would be drawn.

I let out a moan, remembering my armor, the impenetrable garment that I had found in my backpack after I found Thresh's dying body. I knew it would help me win, but now it prevents me from dying a death that is sure to come. I can't help but wonder if the suit is completely invincible, I know every part of me is covered except my eyes, hands, feet and mouth. I feel more pressure points, and open my eyes. I see her eyes over my head. She growls, and her head viciously darts down to my mouth. I scream, which feels weird when the skin is gone, revealing my teeth.

I close my eyes again, hoping that they will not receive the same pain that my mouth has just suffered. I succumb to the pressure around my body until I feel a pain as sharp as daggers fall to my leg.

"_Why do you train with knives, Clove?" I had asked when I was nine years old while waiting to be collected by my parents after my training session had ended. The girl beside me was my age, and her mouth was pursed in concentration._

"_Because they can be sharper than a sword, you can have more than one, and you can fight close as well as long range." She replied without looking at me._

"_Nothing is sharper than a sword." I said, wanting to defend my weapon. She turned to me with a raised eyebrow, and fast as lightning, she stuck one of her knives in my leg._

I feel the same pain that I felt then. And much like then, I knew that the culprit wouldn't be punished. I now know the feel the dozens of knives carving along my body, shredding me to pieces. My screams are muffled to moans as I realize that it is a waste of energy.

I'm ripped apart for what seems and eternity. My eyes are closed, unable to look into hers. The pain is both mental and physical. Maybe I deserve this. I think of all the children that fell to my sword, and the sense of accomplishment I had felt each time that I heard a cannon fire. I feel one of them bite my eye, forcing my other eye open. Then, suddenly, they go away. The pain is unbearable. I moan an unintelligible sound, maybe it is a curse, or maybe it is a plea. A minute later I feel an arrow enter my skull. I lost the Games, but I can't help but think: thank you, Girl on Fire, for stopping the pain.

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I'm going to post a few more deaths today, because I have a lot of suggestions building up.^^ I made that decision about five seconds ago. So, with that said, I'd like to thank the following for reviewing since my last chapter: WritingIsLife8, snowhiskers, Realityshowfan, Clara, Logical Guesses, LunaPadma, and Fishpony!!! Thanks to all who have read, and those who review!!! I do appreciate the criticism and compliments!!!


	18. Emerza Flames

Disclaimer: I have yet to own the Hunger Games...

Okay, on with my updating spree.

This idea was suggested and dedicated to mymockingjay: The death of the girl finished off by Peeta.

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Emerza Flames (Age 14) female – District 8

I am cold. No longer cold from the temperature of the atmosphere but from the gash that resides across my chest. How that is possible I do not know, but it is cold. Maybe it is because when you die your soul slowly exits your body, leaving what is left to try to warm the physical aspect. And when there is less than half left, you feel cold. But to whatever matter of why exactly I'm cold, the point is: I'm cold. I should be dead, and at this rate I wish that I was. The pain was increasing, and a small trickle of blood was starting to flow down my mouth. Why did it have to be so cold?

It was almost moments ago that the Careers had come crashing through the brush, waking me from my sleep. Maybe it was stupid of me to light a fire, but I was cold. I was asking the same question then: Why did it have to be so cold? A fire would be nice, and how clever would they think of if they knew that I would be able to start one. It probably was stupid to fall asleep, but I was tired. I begged with them, begged for clemency, but to no surprise they saw nothing of it. Now I lie here, with the semi-fatal wound, gasping for air in short, rasping gasps. Another question: Why couldn't that boy learn how to use a sword? Weren't Careers supposed to be good with weapons? I can't help but wonder what they will do when they find that I haven't died. I hope they don't send him back.

I face my fire which is now the dying embers of what was my beacon to death. I face the place where the Careers took off back through the woods. Both my death calling and cause in the same sight. I don't know what I'm waiting for. Perhaps a faster death than the pain that faces me now. I let my eyes slip closed, hoping that they won't open again. I'm sorry—that's what I would say to my family. I'm sorry that I left. I'm sorry that I can't come back. I'm sorry for your tears and pain, but I don't know if it is as terrible as my own. I can't bring myself to break the silence hovering in the air. For a few seconds I'm in the deathly silence of the night.

I hear the distant crunch of twigs and my eyes automatically open to the noise. Emerging from the distance is the blond-haired boy. The District 12 who was running with the Careers. His blue eyes showed a mask of annoyance which quickly softened to sympathy once he laid eyes on me. My face remained unmoving. He held a knife in his right hand and I knew what I should ask: something that the real Careers would never give me. A quick death.

"End this." I say; my voice a hoarse whisper, barely audible. I'm not sure if he could make out the words; but I think he heard me. He moves forward and kneels down next to where my body lies.

"Are you sure that there is nothing to save you?" I look to his eyes and I see they etched to sorrow. He is no murder. He belongs here not. Then again, I, and half the others, don't belong here either. He keeps himself from dropping tears though.

"Please. It hurts. Nothing can be done. Just make it stop." My voice is more distant now. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. But the pain is still there. Along with the cold.

My shut close and I mouth "Please" one last time. My life is still within me, but I no longer have the strength to move. The last of my soul is leaving, and the cold is getting worse. I can't stop shivering now. Why must it be so cold? I feel the cool tip of a metal blade drag itself across my neck, but I'm too far away to feel any pain. I just feel the cold. Maybe it is in my mind that I tell him thank you, but I hear his footsteps walking away before the last of my soul leaves my body. I wait for the warmth to come back. _I'm sorry_ I say in my mind one last time to my family, I should have tried harder.

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Okay! On with my updating spree then. Since I updated my last chapter I have no one to thank for reviewing it... so Thanks to everyone who will review and will read!!! Yay!!! I'm in a good mood today!!!!


	19. Azentin Onyx

Disclaimer: I have yet to own the wonderful book known as the Hunger Games.

See if you recognize this guy from anywhere...

Chapter Dedicated to Silverstardust!!! Why? Because it's my idea!!! Lol. Don't worry, I shall soon write all of your ideas... this file was just rotting at the back of my computer, so I had to post it.

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Azentin Onyx (Age 18) male – District 8

After my brother died, I figured that I was no longer a candidate for the Hunger Games. The Capitol already took one from my family, I was safe. I got proven wrong on the very last reaping I was supposed to be a part of. Once they called 'Azentin Onyx' I had snickered at the sucker that was going to die this year, I could laugh because I was now safe.

I noticed everything was silent; nobody was walking to claim their death. I realized that the sucker was going to be me, and those words caused some of my more unpleasant memories to come back. More specifically the image was that of my baby brother being impaled by a knife. My imagination had been ever-so graceful to replace his dying body with my own.

Bringing back the guilt that had been temporarily housed inside my mind for the past three years. The guilt that was there because I didn't volunteer for him, even though I very well knew that there was nothing else that I could do. To me it was either he or I was going to die, so it might as well have been him. I was too close to being safe. I can't help but wish that I was able to do something.

But now, sitting in the damp cavern, I knew what he had felt, abandonment. The stalactites were illuminating the small portion that I had made my camp, water dripping from them ever so slowly. _Drip, drip, drip_, at least because of this there was never a shortage of water. There were enough bats hanging around to keep me full. The only thing absent was sunlight.

The disadvantage of this cavern arena was that every sound echoed. You would know the general location of someone, but you wouldn't be able to tell where they were headed. And sometimes you would think that that someone is chasing you, but in reality, it is the echo of your own footprints. The best thing at those points was to hide in the shadows and hope for the best.

I leaned against the damp cave wall, chewing on a bat wing, my knife by my side. Dripping water still echoed, the only sound in the cave. I knew that there was a group of tributes by the Cornucopia, which was in a larger cave with a high ceiling; at the top you could see the sun. That is how I know that I'm in an underground cavern. Most of the other tributes were in caves with in this network, nowhere near mine. So I did not expect anyone to be talking, much less calling my name.

"_Azzy! Azzy, help me!"_ A young boy's voice called, filled with fear. My ears twitched up, the voice still echoing among the rocks. This had to be a mistake. I haven't heard that voice in three years. That voice belonged to Yoshi, my dead brother.

"_Azzy, hurry please!" _The voice calls again. I bolt up, dropping my wing and grabbing my knife. I start to walk cautiously in the general direction of the voice.

"_Azzy, faster, she is coming!"_ I'm sure this is my brother's voice now. Could he still be alive? I start to run to his voice, as the last remains echo off of the walls. Fear and hope fill my brain. I follow until the sound wears off, and I'm at a junction in the cave. Is it left or right? Light is to the left, right is pitch dark. I can't tell which way to my brother.

"_Azzy, she is coming closer! She is going to hurt me! Save me!"_ The voice comes from the right. I start to sprint, panic increasing. I can't let my brother die again. I come to a dark chamber. His voice is still echoing, but I can't find him.

"Yoshi! Yoshi, where are you?" I call out panicked. For a second I fear I'm too late.

"_I'm here! I'm down here! She's holding me! She is going to cut me! Save me Azentin! Please! I'm only thirteen! I don't want to die! Help me!"_ I run forward, and jump into the dark center of the chamber expecting maybe a ten foot drop.

What I don't expect is a fifty foot drop into stalagmites. I grab onto a root hanging off the side and feel my arm being ripped from my socket. My knife falls, and I hear it clattering on the ground. I look up and see what I think to be a bat on the branch that I grabbed. Then I realize that it isn't a bat. Jabberjay. And I fell for its trap.

"Why didn't you save me, Azzy? I'm your baby brother; you said you would look out for me." The bird says before it takes off. How dare they mimic my baby brother? Was his death not enough? Lost in rage, I reach to grab it. Only, I let go of the branch in the process. I join my knife at the bottom of the pit.

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I'm going on the impression that the Capital knows how to rearrange the voices of a person so that they say what they want it to. They did that with the screams, and Beetee said that those techniques were taught to children. OK, thus I continue my updating spree. Thanks to all who read and review!!!


	20. Vacantia Aphrodite

I'm procrastinating!!! Thus, I present to you an air-headed Career. I modeled this tribute after a particular idiot in my grade whom I deplore.

Disclaimer: I own not the Hunger Games...

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Vacantia Aphrodite (Age 17) female – District 1

I smiled at my reflection in the river. Before I saw myself in it, I like thought of it as the ugly, clear-blue, sparkling river with lots of like green stuff and colorful flowers around it. But now that I see my beautiful reflection, I can't help but think how much more beautiful the river looks. I am so generous to allow my reflection to be shown across the river by everybody. I picture every one of the tributes gathered around the river awing at my beauty. I mean why wouldn't they? I'm gorgeous. Boys love me, and girls love me. Well, those who aren't jealous.

I'm blowing a kiss at my reflection when I feel all eyes turn to me. I mean, all eyes are normally on me, but this time, I think that it is for a serious reason. I turn around to face my group members, making sure that my perfect, curly blond hair flips behind me. "What?" I say dramatically sexy. I see Nocturne roll her eyes. She is one of the jealous ones.

"Try to pay attention, vacant Vacantia," accuses the jealous Nocturne. I don't know what the word vacant means, but I think that it means something like 'awesome' or 'beautiful'. "Why can't we take her out of our group Rio?" It takes me a moment to register that Nocturne asks this question to Rio, her sexy district partner, not me.

Rio smiles. "Well, you know. She's, you know." Rio looks hot when he smiles. I smile back at him and he blushes. I see Nocturne roll her eyes again. I don't see why Nocturne doesn't just like, die. She is so annoying.

In our original clique there were the Usuals. Of those left in our clique are District One, my own district and, wait what comes after one? Oh, yeah. And District Two: ugly Nocturne and gorgeous Rio's District. I think we were making a plan before Nocturne interrupted with her question to Rio. "Come on guys, we need to make a plan." I am usually the one who gets us back on track.

"We already made a plan. Not like you would know, though. You were too busy looking at your reflection." I smile at her lightly. I am glad that she understands my obligations.

"So, what is it?" I ask. A suspicious grin creeps onto Nocturne's face.

"Now that you ask, I just thought of a better plan. Accompany me to the river?" I smile and walk the short distance to the edge of the river. Maybe she wants to use my presence to draw out the other tributes. Nocturne comes up beside me and places an arm around my back.

I think I understand. It is why she looked jealous when I looked at Rio. I'm not sure how to break this to her though. "Nocturne, darling. I'm not sure how to put this, so I'm just going to say it. I'm not interested in girls." I try to say this sympathetically, as to not make her spiral into a spiral of rejection.

"Nor am I." I feel a shove, and before I know it I'm in the river. Was she that disappointed? She was now rejecting her feelings? Those thoughts are brushed from my mind as something more important occurs to me: I can't swim.

"Help!" I scream, but I can already see Rio and Nocturne leaving the riverbed. They must think that I am so amazing that I can climb up the riverbed and join them in moments. "Help I can't swim!" My arms are flailing wildly, and I'm wondering why my river-self won't save me. After moments of screaming and flailing, I'm dragged under by exhaustion. Surprisingly, I can no longer breathe. But there was a more significant detail. I could only worry about this one thing. Because, oh snap, this is so going to ruin my hair.

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Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last chapters and/or read them!!! I'm being lazy, so I'm not going to write all of your names, but I give you my gratitude^^ Seriously though, their are over 800 Hunger Games fanfics now!!! There was only about 100 at this time last year!!! It is kinda overwhelming!!! Anyhow, I need to finish my Bio. homework so... yeah. Enjoy this chapter... even though you already read it... maybe I should add this at the beginning... Oh well!!! Almost to 100 reviews!!!


	21. Retritus Revel

Disclaimer: Despite many beliefs, I do not own the Hunger Games:(

Okay, jeez, fine. You only need to ask once. So here is is: The death of the dude who had his throat ripped out by Enobaria. Suggested (Not once, but twice) by and dedicated to Manawyrmz. I would never ignore a suggestion. I just get a surprisingly large number of such and get backed up. Maybe I will post all that I have now...

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Retritus Revel (Age 16) male – District 5

I try to swallow, but I find myself struggling to complete even that simple task. My hands are sweating ferociously, and I can't stop moving my fingers, as if such movements will give me some omnipotent strength. My eyes glaze over and the sinuous branches of the surrounding forest blend into an unrecognizable mesh. I snap back to focus. The Career girl stands across from me in a position fit for a professional fighter. That is what she is, after all.

In my district I am, or was, the strongest wrestler. I hold an unnaturally strong build, both tall and muscular, without much effort. At sixteen, such is a gift. That is what my parents told me. They said that I had a chance coming into the Games, not as trained as the Careers, but I have natural talent and an ability to learn. I am well feed enough to not be dying of starvation, but I still know how to be hungry. I am lucky. I hope my luck withstands against this girl: This freak.

She is as muscular as I, if not more. Her muscles bulge around her exposed arms, and she looks more like a man than a woman. I'm starting to question whether she is a girl. She takes a firm step closer, still maintaining her form. I do the same. One lunge and I can have my arms wrapped around her neck in seconds, which is, if my arms can fit around her neck. But this is a dance of timing, I have to wait, one wrong move and I could die.

I am tired though, I had killed the girl's partner but moments before. She had barged through the trees just in time to see him fall with a broken neck. The only advantage that I can see in my favor is the outfits which we were shoved into. Guys wore white, loose tops that strung up at the front, breeches, and boots. Girls wore sundresses, and sandals. They even had these floppy sunhats to match. It was all very strange and very odd clothing. I wasn't sure how she is supposed to fight in that outfit, even if it is now torn, sandal-less, and hatless. As a male, I have the advantage.

The sun is high, directly over our heads. Pounding on my hair, making the red strands heat up in waiting. The girl – or guy, as I think – is narrowing its eyes; we have been standing off for more than ten or fifteen minutes. Neither sure whether to make the first move. I'm about to lunge when the girl speaks, "You wouldn't really kill a girl, would you?" I stop, frozen. It was the first time I heard the girl talk, and her voice was as sharp as daggers. But it had a melodious tune to it, and it didn't fit its body. I step into high alert. She was less than a meter away, and I knew that she would pounce any moment.

I give her a cocky grin that is filled with false confidence. "Are you sure that you are a girl?" I lunge for her neck. But she lunged faster. She grabs me by the shoulders and tilts my body. Her head tilts so her mouth is parallel to my throat, and I'm swelled in panic. I need to escape this hold and take control of the fight. I try to reach for her neck, but she reaches around me in what could only be a hug. I'm sure that she is just playing with me. She brings her head closer with her jaws spread wide. For a second, I think that she is going to kiss me. I feel her teeth on my neck, and within seconds, I feel a shredding pain.

I slowly collapse to my knees. I look up to the girl, and with an inhumane stinging in my neck, I see a surreal sight. My eyes dart in and out of focus, and I'm not sure if I am seeing correctly. A muscular girl with matted brown hair in a pink sundress, with blood splattered all down the front. In her maw is bloody tube-like piece of organic matter that I recognize as a throat. With a shaking hand, I raise my arm to my neck, feeling a bloody void that has arrived in recent moments. The throat was mine. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I collapse into a pool of blood. Synchronized with the last beat of my heart is the sound of the cannon.

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Lol. Fun to write. ^^. OMG!!! I HAVE MORE THAN 100 REVIEWS!!! You guys are awesome!!! Seriously, look at the number. It makes me happy. MY THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO READS AND REVIEWS!!! Yeah. I like caps lock. ^^ Y'all know who you are, and I don't need to say it anymore. (Yeah... you could say I'm getting lazy.) ^^ Ow... my finger hurts. I was using an electric drill and lost my grip, and I have a hole in my now dark purple thumb. :/ But I still have 100 reviews!!! YAY!!!


	22. Freza Icily

Sorry for not updating in about a month! Hypothermia, volunteering, school, crew, the school's play, and life got in my way!

Disclaimer: I will, despite all odds, never own The Hunger Games.

Dedication:

This is the idea of Popular Wannabe, who gave me the death of a little girl freezing behind an iceberg rock thingy.

And to LunaPadma who wanted me to write a District 11 girl.

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Freza Icily (Age 13) female – District 11

It was always warm in District 11. I think I loved that the most. The way that the sun beat down on my face when I was out in the strawberry fields, the way a cool breeze would occasionally glide through my hair on the way home, and the way that warmth danced on my eyelids when I lied down in the meadow to rest. I loved the warmth. It is what beacons to me even now, calling me home with its promise to never leave. My home calls me to take refuge from this cold, barren, snowy wasteland of an arena, and I long to return to it.

I have wrapped my jacket and blanket around my small frail body as tightly as possible. I was still shivering, still cold, and still longing for the warmth of my home that seemed so close now. I was too cold to move, not that it mattered. The water I held in my canteen was frozen solid. My food is rock hard. I haven't had anything to drink or eat in days. There is no wood to build fires with. I just have to stay still and hope I outlast the District 2 boy, my only opponent left.

I knew that he has the same resource dilemma as I. Though, I think that he has sponsors. I shivered violently again, knocking some of the snow that had come to rest on my head off. I am so cold, and I long for the sun. I am covered in a blanket of snow, but this blanket offers no warmth. It had been my defense, letting me blend into the surroundings. It covered my dark features then, but now it only offers more cold. I'm starting to think that my skin has turned to a chalk white color by now though. My toes and fingers are burning, and after some time, I can no longer feel them.

_"Come home, alright, Frey?" Demanded my cousin Chaff. _

_"I don't know… I'm smaller than the others by sure." I had said. My voice had sounded weak and innocent._

_"Don't think that way." _

_"I don't think I can kill someone." I whisper, barely making myself audible. _

_"Don't think that way. Think of it like a vacation, and you're playing hide and seek. Find a place to hide, so the others can't seek you. Remember that one time when I freaked out because I couldn't find you?"_

_"I was in your room the whole time." I said, recalling the memory._

_"Exactly. Just hide, you won't have to kill anyone, and they won't have to kill you. Just hide. You will outlast the others, no matter where you are." _

I don't think that my cousin ever considered a barren tundra with no food, frozen water, and no wood for fire. I didn't know how to survive here, but I hid. And no one has been able to find me. But as I shiver I try to think of the worth. I live in a district of warmth; I had no fear of freezing. The experience is completely new to me. And the shivers will not stop. I wish for the trillionth time since my entrance into the arena that I could return to the warmth of my home. I close my eyes.

I just had to outlast that one boy, and how long could he last anyway? It's not like he was immune to the cold. I let out one more violent shiver, and my body gets warm. I'm fazed. Did the boy die? I didn't hear the cannon. Did I die? No, I'm still thinking. Why is it so warm? I don't want to open my eyes to see if the snow has melted away, if the sun has returned from its cover under the clouds. I don't want to open my eyes and have the felling of warmth leave me. I think I let myself smile. I can already picture my homecoming.

_Chaff and his parents are waiting for me to step off of the train, preparing to embrace me with open arms. I rush forward, ignoring the cameras, and am enveloped into their hug. The reunion is sweeter than sugar, and will bring tears into the eyes of the Capitol. I feel tears drip down my face, and the unbelievable happiness I feel about seeing them again. "Chaff, Chaff, I did what you said. I hid. I won." _

_He would then look me in the eyes, and he would smile at me. His cheeks would be moist with fresh tears which he so rarely showed, but his voice would be kept calm. He would let out a laugh of joy._

_"I knew you would do it, Frey. I never had reason to doubt you." I would smile then. Smile at my cousin, and the fact that we were both alive. And I would smile at the warmth. The warmth that beat down on my face. The warmth that filled me now. The warmth that I loved oh so much… _

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So apparently freezing to death is like going to sleep, how any one would know that I have no idea, since, if this is true, they would be DEAD BY NOW!!! Lol. Anyhow, I enjoy reviews, they make me happy^^ Thanks to everyone who reads:D And, since I haven't done this in forever, thank you to: WrittingIsLife8, LunaPadma, Realityshowfan, Marionettes, In-the-fire, Manayrmz, Jack, Popular Wannabe, xXKillerxxCupcakeXx, Clara, Kesoliai, laxgoal131, and TheNotSoSimpleTruth (Who, by the way, is the subject of chapter 14) for reviewing!!! Sorry if I forgot you, but I'm only human... Or am I? JK, I think you are all amazing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next will be up soon. Hopefully.


	23. Octavian Falsen

Told you I would update soon. Lol.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Dedicated: The Last opponent of Johanna Mason. Suggested by 3 people. It must be a new record:D

So, Choco13, who suggested it first.

Realityshowfan, who suggested a cocky Career trying to kill her.

And Kesoliai.

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Octavian Falsen (Age 15) male – District 1

The crunching of pine below my feet is so loud that I think someone could hear it from miles around. I grin with pride. My blood stained sword drags in the dirt as I walk through the tall forest. I had just killed my partner, the boy from two. He didn't see it coming; my sword was plunged through his heart before he could blink. I let out a laugh. This is too easy. I have been in the arena for two weeks, and I have yet to find anything challenging. I have the bountiful supplies of the Careers, and all the Sponsors I could want on top of that. And, the last tribute left in the arena besides myself was the sniveling girl from 7. I don't know how she made it this far. Hell, she probably was crying so much she drowned everyone who tried to get near her! I reach my hand up and brush back my blond hair from my eyes. I'm still grinning.

This is much too easy. The last opponent left, and the only challenge is finding her. The reason I'm trying to be so loud is that I hope she will burst into tears once she hears me. Then I can find her. I let out another laugh. This is too easy. I will win without a fight, and then all eyes on Finnick Odair will move to me, the gorgeous fifteen-year-old Victor from District 1. I can already see the girls surrounding me, begging to get into my bed. All that stands in my way is that sniveling weakling from District 7, but I don't intend for her to live that much longer.

I pick up my pace, still making just as much noise, and listening for any sounds that should be foreign to the forest. I hear a twig snap under my foot again, and as I pick up my other foot, I hear another twig snap. It is a very soft noise, a noise made by something that is unwilling to be heard. I turn around, raising my sword as I do so. I manage to deflect the axe from hitting me in the chest, but it is redirected to my shoulder. For a second I feel nothing, my brain is working hard to connect all the pieces. A small girl in front of me with axes in both hands, my sword raised and ready to strike, the sticky warmth making its way down my shoulder, the giant geyser of blood on my shoulder, and the red axe lying to my right. And, in a second, everything clicks. I let out a blood-curling scream of pain and anger. I see the tip of the girls lip raise into a smile.

I recover my breath, my eyes burning with fury. "You." My voice is low and deep, and slightly raspy. I keep my sword held in a striking position. "Looks like you are quite the schizophrenic little girl. Oh, wait. I forgot District 7. Not the smartest apples in the tree, are you? My bad, I'll try to talk using words that you understand." Those words allow my grin to return to my face.

"And you are bequeathed with quite the sophomoric attitude. Oh wait, I forgot. District 1, right? Not the smartest cookies in the cookie jar, are you? My bad, I'll try to talk so you can keep up retard." My grin drops at the same time hers does. We are matching each other with scowling glares.

"What happened to the scared little girl act, huh bitch?" The girl stays in the same place, and I'm starting to think this is another act. There is no way that the District 7 girl can kill. This is too easy. The blood flow down my shoulder is staring to ease up, and I think that the cut wasn't too deep. It was just a lucky shot on her part.

"It was act. You do the math… and no. Despite all odds, two and two can't equal five, dumb ass." That pushed my patience. I raise my sword and start to do all the fancy tricks that my trainer taught me to intimidate my opponents. As I do this I glance towards the girl for a second, only to find her in a weird position. One of her hands is extended, while the other is behind her head. Suddenly I am pushed backwards by an invisible force. My breathing turns harsh, and I can't get up. My sword is far from my body, and I reach to my chest, where the pain is from. As I do, the girls head appears above me.

She kneels down, beside my head. "Who were you calling a bitch? Bitch." She takes another axe, and brings it down on my neck. What a bitch.

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Okey-dokey then. ^^ Thanks for reading, and do revivew!!! Sorry for errors, but my computer has been a bit spazy lately. So if you see anything messed up tell me^^ Thanks for those who suggested it, and I will update soon!!!


	24. Thresh Gin

Normally, I don't like writing from the points of established characters, but since this was suggested by two people...

Disclaimer: I do not own Thresh or the Hunger Games.

Dedicated:

Marionettes and

Jack.

This is because Thresh is a Beast, and there is no way Cato could overcome him.

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Thresh Gin (Age 17) male – District 11

I was going too fast. I should have seen. But, I was trying to get away, get far into the territory in which I was comfortable. I was going to fight; there was nothing else which I could have done. I took the District 2 backpack after I killed Knife Hand. As I was running through the field, I couldn't help but feel some regret. I let Fire Girl go. She was one more tribute who stood in the way of me and home. I should have killed her; then both she and her partner would be gone. All who were left would be Red Head and Ass Hole. But I couldn't; I needed to repay her for looking after the little girl.

I could have overlooked it, just killed her anyways. But that course of action would be wrong. It's like when my parents were killed, if the neighbors overlooked it, then my sister, grandmother and I would be dead. But they helped us. And we helped them, when one was sick, everyone would give them some coins for medicine. Those in the poor position learn to not be selfish. We relied on everyone for survival, and to neglect any kindness, no matter how nondescript, would be unforgivable. I didn't know Rue well, but in District 11, you always know a relative of someone, or an acquaintance.

Her older brother worked in the same fields as me; he died before she knew him. He was my best friend when I was six years old. If the Girl on Fire helped her, then I owed her a kindness back. And that debt was paid. But in that course, I lead to my own death. Or maybe if I never helped her the same would have happened. I was moving too fast. I wasn't paying attention to the tell-tale signs. The snake's venom was surging through my ankle before I had time to react.

I had stumbled to the ground, and as I did the snake slithered back to wherever it came from. I had made my way back to my clearing in the field. I set the packs unopened to one side and set my rock down. I took a few steps and stumbled to the ground. I managed to sit up, and I ripped off a portion of my shirt. I wrapped it tightly around my ankle; to keep the venom away for as long as I could. My vision had started to fuzz over, not by much, but I knew that the poison would be my end.

The next days I spent on the ground, passing in and out of consciousness. I wondered every minute where Ass Hole was, I knew that he was tracking me. Maybe he was still morning over his girlfriend, Knife Hand. I had a water canteen, and I kept drinking. But I didn't want to waste my strength moving over to the packs and searching through them. At some point it started to rain, and now I lay here, my numbed mind pounding to the rhythm of the droplets.

I didn't hear him coming. My mind was too far gone. I see the darkened figure move over me, and I try to get to my feet. I stumble back to my knees, and realize that I don't have my rock. I look up, and see him glaring at me with unmatched hate, moving slowly around my opening. The world is shaking around me, gazing in and out of focus. I try to get to my feet once more, but I don't have the strength. Surely he can tell something is wrong.

I'm panting; this small effort is killing me. I'm about to collapse back to the ground when he reaches forward and grabs me by the cuff of the neck. I feel my eyes roll limply in my sockets. "You killed her. You get what you deserve: A slow and painful death." I try to look at him, but fail.

"She killed her." I say, but there is no way anyone could understand the muffle of the words. I feel like I'm going to be sick. He shoves me back to the ground, and I feel relief. The pain of supporting my body is taken away. My eyes follow helplessly as he takes the two packs, and then he leaves. The wave of sickness returns and I fall back into unconsciousness. And slowly, the pattering of the rain fades away and the lightning is a distant light. My senses which haven't left yet fade away, and the sickening feeling goes away. Just another tribute who died, and just another tribute who wouldn't be missed. Another tribute who's absence will cause his family to starve.

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Okay, that will be it for a while. I'm being suffocated in school, which, speaking of which, it is probably a bad idea to be procrastinating today... but whatever!!! Thanks for reading and please review!!! I hope you enjoyed!!! Tell me of any mistakes!!!


	25. Galia Slyte

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I'm positive my name isn't Suzanne Collins, unless I have been lied to my whole life...

Okay!!! *Drum roll please* By popular demand, I give you death by Finnick!!!

Suggested and dedicated to:

Claratrix LeChatham, who suggested a fox-face like character (She also had the idea first) and

Mrs. giggles *cough* xXKillerxxCupcakeXx *cough*

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Galia Slyte (Age 14) female – District 10

I sigh in satisfaction and delight as I watch the gorgeous Finnick Odair plunge his trident into his fellow Career. The tips plunge through the boy's chest and blood starts oozing out. I can't pay attention to that though. Only one thing grabs my attention. The sunlight of the new day glistened off of his sparkling, perfect abdomen, and his perfect hair is blowing back with the wind. I sigh once again as I picture Finnick noticing me, and walking up…

_"Hello, Galia." Says Finnick as he caresses my cheek._

_"Hi, Finnick." I would reply shyly, before I pick up the courage to tell him everything. "I could never take my eyes off you. Ever since the Games began, I followed you the whole time. You just never saw me. Hiding: That is my skill, as your trident is yours."_

_Finnick would then smile his perfect smile. "I know, Galia. I knew you were there all along. I was just waiting for you to come out. You see… I love you Galia, I always have. Ever since I saw you that first day." He would then lean in to kiss me, but I would back away._

_"What about that girl? The one from your District?" The one who you were smooching while we were at the Capitol, I add in my head. _

_Finnick would simply shake his head. "I never loved her. It was all an act. To get Sponsors, I would never, ever love any one more than you Galia. You, you are my life." Then, he would lean in and kiss me. This time I wouldn't reject._

I let out another sigh of satisfaction before my daydream is shattered by the cannon fire. I can't help but wonder whether to smile or frown. Finnick, gorgeous, perfect, Finnick, and I were the only ones left now. Finnick made it here with his muscular, spectacular body and his trident skill. I made it here by being clever. We came from two different worlds; the only thing that I hoped would bring us together would be our love… if he loved me like I love him.

But how could he love me, the scrawny girl from 10? He has his eyes for the Careers. But, maybe, in my last moments, I can still have a chance with him. The most romantic thing would be if I sacrificed myself for him. Or if he sacrificed himself for me, but then, this would be a tragedy. I couldn't let that happen.

I take a deep breath, and reveal myself from the shadows. The sunlight glints off of my body, and I ever so wish that Finnick was wearing less clothing. But he still had his shorts. He was looking the other way, and for a few seconds I admire the muscles on his gorgeous back. I let out another sigh. He is expertly wiping the blood off of his trident, and he still hasn't noticed me. I speak up.

In the most allures voice I can manage I say, "Hello, Finnick." It takes all of my strength not to slap myself. I sounded like a scared child, with my voice shaking. Why would gorgeous Finnick ever love anyone like that? I restrain myself from that though, and I keep standing there with a mysterious expression.

Finnick turns around in a graceful motion, and I have to keep myself from smiling. He was just so perfect. Once he sees me standing there, he throws his net at me, perfection and accuracy in his eyes. I dodge it effortlessly. He jumps back in shock. I take a few steps forward, worried that there was something wrong. "What is the matter Finnick? Is there something behind me?" Finnick shakes his perfect, gorgeous head wide eyed; I can only imagine what's going through such a head. He must be starting to realize that he loves me. He loves me so much that he is speechless. I'm about to ask another question when Finnick speaks.

"You're District 10 – r-rr-right?" His voice shakes nervously as he says this, but it still chimes with the same perfection and beauty that his body does.

"My name is Galia. I have been following you during the whole Game." I smile; a smile of encouragement.

"Uh… Galia?" My heart leaps with joy when he says my name with that perfect voice. "Why, exactly, were you following me?" I can't help but feel my heart drop in despair. I take a few steps forward, so I am almost face to face with the gorgeous Finnick Odair. His breathing is rapid, and I think that it is only true love that keeps him from stabbing me through the chest with his trident.

"Because, Finnick. I love you." And I lean forward to kiss him. Our lips have barely made contact. I feel something impale my chest, and my eyes gape open. I stagger backwards, away from my Finnick. I lift my hands to my bare chest, and I feel blood dripping from it. My eyes weld with tears. "Why, Finnick? Why?" I collapse to my knees, where my eyes close upon the last glance of my perfect Finnick. My heart is broken, both metaphorically and physically. Why doesn't he love me? I can only die with shattered dreams.

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Haha, this might be a bit far-fetched, but that is kinda the point. It be Spring Break!!! I've been waiting for this day for so long. Four months to be exact. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!!! Feel free to point out any errors, but if you just say that my writing sucks and don't give me a legit reason, I'm going to think that you are stupid (Yeah, you can say this happened recently-- different story, not you guys, you guys are awesome). :D Thanks to Zisabe13, JLW, Mrs. giggles *cough* xXKillerxxCupcakeXx *cough*, WritingIsLife8, TwooI'mAnOwl, LunaPadma, Jack, and Safira Rue Mellark for reviewing. Such a long list!!! I really appreciate the feedback!!!


	26. Damian Zap

Update # 2!!! I'm in a good mood!!! For those of you who don't know, there is a boat that you row called a single (I'm in crew), which is the boat that my coach put me in as a Freshman!!! I'm not even that big (5'4 and not even breaking 100lbs.), and I suck at it (as in I'm really slow- my technique is good), but I feel happy being able to row it. I will get smothered at competition^^

Anyhow!!! This is built off of two suggestions (dedicated to such)--

xXKillerxxCupcakeXx who said an island with coconuts and... well, I won't spoil it ^^

and WritingIsLife8 who said a brother and sister as the final two.

Disclaimer: I wish that I owned the Hunger Games... maybe I could make money off of this than...

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Damian Zap (Age 18) male – District 4

"Hello, Damian." I freeze in my footsteps. I knew the voice that spoke behind me, the very voice that I had dreaded ever since I entered the arena. The sweet sound had once been a beacon of happiness, but now it brought only pain and sorrow into my mind. I take a deep breath and turn around. Behind me is my sweet, little, thirteen-year-old sister dressed in a tattered shirt and jeans. By her side is a sword, one that is much too big for her small little body. Volunteering for the Hunger Games should be an honor. This has made it into a curse.

_"And the male tribute is…" I smile as the air-headed escort Miles Donner picks the first tribute of District 4 for the 57__th__Hunger Games, "Jarok Yarkley!" I sit in patience as the boy is brought up to stage and introduced, a trembling young boy, I am surprised that he can keep his voice steady. Then my adrenaline starts pumping. "Do we have any Volunteers for young Mister Jarok?"_

_I shoot up to the stage as fast as lightning. "I, Damian Zap, volunteer to take the place of Jarok Yarkley as the male tribute of District 4 for the 57__th__annual Hunger Games!" The words flow perfectly off of my tongue, as they had been rehearsed multiple times before. The relieved Jarok moves back to the twelve-year-old section as my district erupts in cheers, and I take my place proudly on the stage._

_Miles moves over to the female orb, and I know whoever'sname is called is stuck with the position, none of the female Careers were volunteering this year. I stand there and look pretty: Unworried about whomever's name would be selected._

_Then my world shatters. "AzealaZap!" My neck turns sharply and I look at Miles wide-eyed. Surely he made a mistake, he didn't call that name. But, I look to the stairs, and I see my teary-eyed little sister walk up to the stage. My legs collapse underneath me and I do the most un-Career, unmanly thing ever. I faint. My whole world collapses around me as I hear the wail from my little sister._

"Hello, Azeala. How are you doing?" I can tell by her expression that she is close to tears. Why wouldn't she be? She made it to the final two, but the last opponent was her brother, the eighteen-year-old Career prodigy. I don't know why my fragile sister hasn't broken down yet.

"I'm fine." She speaks in barely a whisper now. "What are we supposed to do, Damian? Fight? I don't know…" I look to the ground. I see a coconut lying there, and I kick it in frustration. I wasn't found of the idea of killing my sister. She always looks up to me to find out everything which is new to her.

I look up sharply. I know that I can kill her within seconds. But I need to give her a fair chance. "You have to catch me to kill me." I take off running towards the ocean. I can tell Azeala is in close pursuit, as I thought she would be. Palm trees brush by me, and I barely manage to avoid tripping over several coconuts. But this is too familiar to my home, everything here seems so natural. Within seconds I'm on the rocky edge of the sea and diving in, and through that, swimming for my life. I hear a splash behind me, and I know that she is still following me. So far, so good.

Azeala Zap (Age 13) female – District 4

I remember back in District 4 my brother and I would play a game. It was a race, whoever could swim the furthest into the ocean without being caught would win. If the Peacekeepers patrolling the water spotted us, game over, but the other would always come to whoever'srescue so he didn't get in to much trouble. I figured that was what we were playing now. So I followed my brother, I kept my sword with me though, unlike him. I don't know who would be the Peacekeepers this time. The water was dark and stormy: You couldn't see to the bottom. Though, I kept swimming, trying to follow the path of my brother, as I had done for most of my life.

"_Is is scary, Damian?" I ask: My eyes wide with curiosity._

"_No. They won't expect you to be amazing your first day, so they won't push you that hard. They will just try you out on a lot of weapons. When you get to my age, then they push you harder." My brother offered a smile of reassurance. We were walking to the training building, where all the Careers prepared for the Hunger Games._

"_Are you going to volunteer this year?" My voice much softer than before._

"_No, not at twelve. They say I should be ready at eighteen." My nose scrunches at the idea of my older brother being in an arena. It seemed miserable to live a month without the presence of him. _

"_What about me?" I see his smile fall for a second, but then he pulls it back up. _

"_You are small. You might not have to volunteer at all." There seems to be hope in his voice as he says this._

"_Is that a good thing?"_

"_It can be." _

I lose my concentration as I remember this, but then I regain awareness. That was one thing that I was good at: Keeping aware of my surroundings. And everything looked normal to me. Then I saw the shadow.

I stopped swimming and started to tread water. I scan the surface, but all I see are choppy waves, I can't spot Damian. Then, I see spikes emerge on the top of the water, and realize that they belong to a spin. Each one was probably five feet high, taller than myself. Before a second had passed they disappeared. I started to swim, thinking the danger had passed. Then, a head the size of car emerged. It was golden, with exposed, jagged teeth worse than daggers, ready to kill. My eyes go wide with shock and disbelief. The head strikes at where I am in the water. I do what I have done for almost my whole life. Beg my brother to help me. "DAMIAN!! HELP ME!!!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

Before I heard a response or even a cry of agony or remorse from my brother, I am consumed by the giant sea serpent. A sharp tooth brings itself down on my arm and I feel the shattering pain of a broken bone, but before my agony allows me to show it another tooth brings itself crushing through my skull. I was caught, and my brother wasn't even here to take the blame with me.

---------

Most people think that I didn't kill my sister, the sea serpent did. Sometimes I wish that I could have believed them. I knew that the serpent was there, I lead her to it. And I could have gone to save her when she screamed. But I didn't. I stayed there. True, there was the chance that I would have been consumed instead, but it was a risk that I would have taken at the moment. I needed victory then, no matter what the cost, it was what I had trained for. I let myself suffer on the inside. I did that to avoid ridicule from the inhabitants of my District, who knows what their reaction would be otherwise. It worked. But guilt still consumed me. I killed my little sister. And only I knew of my agony.

I lean against the wall in the lightless, windowless room and bang my head against it. Why? Why?! WHY?! My mind screams to me. Why did she have to die? How could everything be so cruel? Tears stream down my face. Azeala… Azeala, my baby sister. Why couldn't I have been withyou one more day? Why couldn't I talk withyou one last time? Why couldn't I hear you laugh for one more reason? The guilt consumes me like the serpent consumed her. I can't tell anyone. And there is no one to sympathize with. I wipe the tears from my cheek.

I thought if a waited a year, maybe two, things would get better. But they haven't. My knees let me sink to the hard, concrete floor, next to an object. I open the case, the only object in the whole room. In it is a syringe, which holds a silvery substance. I take it in a shaking hand and lift it to a vein that is showing on my emaciated arm. It is the price of being Victor, the horror and guilt of what you did. Some don't let that show, for some there isn't even an effect. I wasn't that lucky.

I press the liquid into my arm, watching as every molecule is deposited inside my body. My arm starts twitching, first in numbness, then in burning pain. It soon spreads to my entire body. The numbness, and then the pain, I'm on the ground twitching. In no way can it compare to what I have suffered in the last three years, but it is still monumental. I know that the suffering is worth it though. _Azeala, I'm so sorry… I'll be there soon_.

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Bet you weren't expecting that, were you? Two deaths in one? Yeah. Hehe, I hope you enjoyed. Please review:D If I have any errors, please point them out, I don't like looking like a gramatical idiot (which I kinda am). Feel free to give suggestions:D I'll try to update soon. Thanks for reviewing :D ^^ :)


	27. Armegen Morph

Disclaimer: Doubt that I will ever own the Hunger Games since I haven't owned it thus far...

This is credited and dedicated to Choco13.

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Armegen Morph (Age 34) male – District 6

I have the knife in my hand, my emaciated fingers clutching it, allowing my knuckles to go white. I study the position for the while, all the possibilities of how I can permit the colors to flow onto the canvas, how I will let this moment to be depicted in paint. With my left hand I trace all the ridges that form on my hand from this position, and I realize how difficult it would be to express each and every feature. It would take years to draw them all out and find the correct coloring, all for something that probably wouldn't go noticed to most people looking upon it.

I close my eyes for a few minutes, trying to picture my canvas, but I find myself trapped: The screams, the dying, the pleas, and the blood. Oh, the blood. The one thing I am never able to paint. The memories of the dying children plague my brain and I wish that I could make it go away, but I can't. I feel the knife clatter out of my hand. My eyes burst open to a width which shouldn't be human. I try to gasp for air, but all that I feel enter me is an empty void.

I try to take a step back, but collapse to my knees. The knife, how could I ever hold a knife again? Surely, I will not after what I did so long ago. Something that was so terrible, that it pains me to think of it. How I slipped the knife carefully through her ribs as she leaned toward me, her face upset beyond repair. I look around me, the forest that seemed to crouch over me with its sinuous, menacing branches. I was back. Whether I liked it or not, I was back in the arena.

I raise my hands to my thinning hair: The result of many years of substance abuse. "Why…" I let the moan barely escape my lips. Being told that you are going into the arena again is so much different than actually being there. The first day hasn't even ended and already, so many lie dead. So many of my friends now lie dead. Hemaphilia is somewhere on the other side of the arena, and I am here alone. Armed with a knife and an atmosphere worth of nightmares that I don't want to relive. Up to kill my friends, or those who used to hold such title.

"Hello, Armie." I lazily gaze to the side and let out a snort at the sight I see.

"Hello Gloss." I respond, while trying to find a way to get up and grab my knife without him noticing.

"How is it going without the substance? You and Hemi don't seem to be taking it very well. Then again, you haven't killed yourself over it yet. Almost as funny as Haymitch trying to be sober." He lets out a laugh, and I manage a sarcastic grin. I reach for my knife and stand up. "It's part of your lifeline. And it seems that it has been taken away. So how are you bracing these stormy seas? Not well, by the judge of it. I think you would have done yourself off first if I didn't show up." He raises an eyebrow, to which I give no response.

"You would be the one to betray your friends." I whisper, and I realize there is a chance that he couldn't make that out.

"Betray? No. Not betray. It is a game, my friend, and those who win, are those who are more qualified. Survival of the fittest, so, no, it is not betrayal: Merely competition." He gives a sparkling smile, one that has been known to make girls swoon. Too bad I'm not a girl.

I sigh, and look him in the eye. I know that I am not strong enough to fight him off. I shake my head, strands of my hair falling out of my head as I do so. I grip my knife, picturing the white of my knuckles as they bulge from my skin, and drop it. Gloss has a look of shock on his face as his eyes follow the knife to the ground. I turn around. "What? You are just going to run away? Stand and fight. You were great, once."

I turn for a moment. "Once. I am not going to kill one of my friends." My head is spinning, and I feel the real effect of what I have done over the past years. "I'm coming out of this world on a clean slate. I'm not afraid of you; you're just a confused child. Anyways, if anything, Gloss should be a girl's name. "

I turn completely and barely take two steps before the sword is through my chest, twisting and turning, making sure to impale every possible organ in existence. I fall to the dirt, not even wielding the strength to make an attempt to catch myself. My head hits with a thump, and I'm just lying there. I can feel a trickle of blood creeping down the edge of my mouth. I remember, back in my games, I have seen this before. The children I stabbed with the blood coming out their mouth, a sure sign that they were going to die. And then, just like them, I feel my eyes slip to a close, and, just like them, I know that they will never open again.

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Sorry it's been a month... kinda hectic. I can't stay long enough to write much, except that I decided I'm going to stop this at 33 chapters (I dislike even numbers). Seems decent right? I'll take suggestions for the last whatever, but I'm going to be selfish. Last death is me. Thanks for reading, this has been fun to write.


	28. Irion Mitil

Disclaimer: I will never own the Hunger Games.

Five deaths after this...

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Irion Mitil (Age-16) male – District 9

"It's rigged I tell you, the whole thing is rigged!" I shout at the top of my lunges while I climb up the mountain. Alicia follows close behind. I'm not looking at her, but I can tell that she is acting annoyed by my rant. It is not that she thinks I'm wrong; it's just that the Capitol is listening. Need to play for the cameras.

"Please, Irion! Shut up! No one wants you spewing out those lies! You'll just make it more miserable for us all!" I have to give Alicia credit, no matter how dire her situation; she can always follow the same act. I haven't seen her stray since the reaping. I should be convinced that is just how she is; I know her too well to believe that though.

I continue my rant. "What, you think that it just happens to be a coincidence that they chose this Quell? It's to turn us against each other. Or, mess with our minds. You know they wouldn't pick us!" I am starting to have my doubts, though. "Not the both of us. They know our family depends on us." I know Alicia is nervous now. She knows that our family depends on us. I feel like turning around to comfort her, but I have to continue.

"And, asides from this Game, do you think that it is chance that chooses the tributes? Look! Whenever a Victor's child is eligible for reapings, it is they who are chosen! Same with the Mayor's children! Oh, yeah, not to forget whenever there is a small child let's chose one of the strongest in the districts to compete with them! And what about twins that just happen to be the oldest and happen to be the sole providers of their family? Let's throw them in! At least they have a reason aside from fame to win!" I feel like turning back to my twin sister, but I continue to climb to nowhere.

"Irion," she said, her voice on the edge of crying, "Irion, please stop. These lies are upsetting me. I don't like how you say this about the Capitol. They aren't that bad." From the beginning my sister took on the goody-two-shoes routine about loving the Capitol. I, being her fraternal twin, took the exact opposite.

In a way, our ranting is factual. At least my points were. We figured at the beginning, with the tributes selected, probably the strongest, that we didn't have a chance. We also figured that we might do something productive in our last moments. Hence, our bashing of the Capitol.

We had this plan since the beginning, along with our angles. In the training center, we had approached the lesser districts to see if they would join us. They were either too scared or didn't want to.

"That's bull, Alicia! Look at the world they have created around you!" I stop and do a 180⁰; my arms stretched high above me for exaggeration. I face Alicia. "Beauty is poison! Is that symbolic enough? Or do you still not understand? It's a hidden message! The Capitol – as grotesque as they are – consider themselves beautiful! We are surrounded by beauty here! Like in the Capitol! And it is all poison trying to kill us! And everything is poison, everything, even the most vital of resources—water. Nothing is safe, not even the Districts."

"Please, just look at what you're saying." She pauses a moment for an effect. "You're saying that they rig the Hunger Games to make it represent our lives. Consider that statement. Does it not sound ridiculous?" She says. I kind of hate it when she asks these questions. I have no idea whether to answer no or yes. So I just repeat the question with what I'm trying to say.

"It is rigged, and I'm not being ridiculous! They probably even tuned out of our whole conversation! And they are probably going to punish us for it!" I turn towards the top of the mountain. "So, what's it going to be Gamemakers? Ya' gonna rig this volcano like the Games? You gonna make it explode to punish us? Just burn us all? Seems like the kind of 'accident' you would arrange!" I shout angrily, and stare at the top, waiting for a response.

I feel Alicia come behind me, and she whispers into my ear, "I think you have taken it a bit too far." I'm about to apologize when I hear and feel the ground shake. Not that significant, but then I see the birds flock together in the sky. They fly away from the mountain.

I know the Gamemakers have listened to me. Even though we knew we were going to die from the beginning, instinct takes over. I have to protect my sister. I spin around. "Alicia, run!" It doesn't even take a moment for everything to settle in. She takes off like a fox. I am a close follower. Close behind I hear a loud rumble, followed by a blast.

Alicia and I turn around just in time to be knocked off our feet by the force of the eruption. I land in a dirt clearing, but Alicia doesn't share my luck. Her head hits a rock. There is red in my vision; there is blood in my eyes from my head, and there is blood in the distance, where Alicia lay. And there is red in the far distance; lava. I hear a cannon fire, but I don't believe that it is Alicia's.

I scramble over to her, my breathing heavy. There seems to be no noise; I can't even hear my own breath. I should have though; the air was thick with ash. "Alicia!" I scream. "Alicia, talk to me!" I manage to cough out that last sentence. There is no response. "Alici—_cough_—_cough_ – Alicia!" I break into a mad fit of coughing. I can't control it. I can't run from the volcano.

Instead I curl in a ball besides my sister. Letting my eyes slip close and coughing until there is no more air to support that. It is like sleeping when you're sick. Only you know that you won't be waking up again. I never feel the heat of the lava, but somewhere in the distance I hear a cannon fire. My last thought is if it is mine.

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I found out what my main issue with writing is. I am very bad at tenses. Half the story will be in past tense, the other in present. It all seems the same in my head, so I deeply apologize that I cannot notice it. Second to that is spelling... thank heaven for spell check, even if it does make you spell privet instead of private. Thanks to Realityshowfan, Broken Violet, Inthefire, LeoLeon, and hungergames51 for reviewing my last chapter. You know it makes my day^^ Thanks to all who read. Now I have to figure out how to write the equation of a freaking hyperbola... I dislike exams.


	29. Adria Sinopa

Disclaimer: Ha! To actually think I own the Hunger Games. Of course I don't.

Dedicated and suggested by: LunaPadma! I hope you enjoy:D

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Adria Sinopa (Age 15) female – District 5

_I sit on the worn-down couch and bring the black piece of cloth over my mouth. I know that this, along with my dark cloak will prevent anyone from pin-pointing my identity. I will never be caught a thief, I will never dishonor my parents names. I stand back up and move to the door of the worn down shack I share with my two brothers. My hand is just on the door handle when I hear a light footstep behind me. "You wanna play hide-and-seek with me, Adria?" The high pitched voice of my six-year-old brother pierces the quiet of the night; causing me to nearly jump to the moon. _

_It takes all my will not to yell at the young child. "No, Arthur, I do not want to play hide-and-seek. Do you see hide-and-seek getting you food on your plate? I don't think so. It won't help us to stay alive. It's a stupid game." I turn to his direction and see his eyes welling with tears._

_"It's not a stupid game. It's fun." I shake my head and kneel so his eyes are level with mine. _

_"Arthur, it won't get us food. I don't want us to go hungry. Arlen won't be able to bring all the food home. I have to steal for us to eat. I don't have time for games. I- I promise, once we're rich and none of us have to work ever again; I'll play hide-and-seek with you all day, and all night. But for now, I have to go, is that a deal?" The small boy shakes his head in agreement and raises his tiny hand to wipe away any tears. _

_I offer a smile and turn into the darkness, toward the market. Careful to shut the door behind me I become engulfed in my coat and in the crimes I am about to commit. _

The snippet of time from all those years ago has been melted into my memory during the entire Game. My now nine-year-old brother and the promise I made to him. I pop the last chunk of the cheese I stole into my mouth and keep walking. I am as close to becoming as rich as I have ever been. I am as close to keeping my promise as I ever have been. And in a way, I was playing hide-and-seek day and night. My brother just wasn't with me.

Ha! And I said it was a useless game. Look how far it has gotten me! But, then, I had to keep my family alive. I had to steal. I couldn't stop and take a few minutes to play with my little brother. No matter how much I wanted to; and I will never regret anything that I have ever done. Because I have done what matters most: Keep my brothers alive. And I am doing that right now, and that is all that matters. As long as they're alive, everything is fine. Or, at least, that is what I keep trying to tell myself.

I wonder if District 12 has found out yet. Noticed my theft. I'm very careful about what I steal, never too much of anything, never more than what I need to stay alive. Nobody has ever caught me. No one will ever catch me. I take one of the small, round, purple-blue berries and pop it into my mouth, not bothering to chew, just swallowing it.

_"Hey, Arlen, bet you can't catch a blueberry in your mouth!" I jeer at my older brother as we sit on the banks of the river which passes through the District. Concealed within the bushes was one small blueberry bush, and only we knew about it. Else, it would have been picked over by now._

_"Oh, yeah?" The eighteen-year-old taunted back as the seven-year-old Arthur and I giggle on the bank side._

_"Care to do the honor?" I laugh will tossing Arthur a blueberry. The boy tosses the fruit up in a beautiful arch and we watch in amazement as Arlen manages to catch it in his mouth. He stands up and takes a bow as we grant him his well-earned applause._

Suddenly, I find myself laughing in hysteria at the memory. But, this isn't—I collapse to my knees in a coughing fit which initially had disguised itself under the pseudonym of laughter. I raise my emaciated hands to my throat, trying to claw out the burning sensation. And then I'm gasping for air, as there is nothing left to support my coughing fit. I make one last attempt to claw out my throat and my whole body goes numb, unable to move.

My eyes slip close, and I see fireworks. Wild cheering is the background noise while trumpets blare. "Congratulations, Adria Sinopa, Victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games!" I imagine a smile creeping onto my face, the knowledge that I was I able to keep my promise to my brother. But one last groan escapes my lips, as I know I won't be able to. _I had to steal, Arthur. It was the only way to keep us alive… _

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Not the best, not the worst. :D Anyways, I'm going to update every day from now on, ending on the middle day of the year. That's in four days. :) Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed my story! It's been nine months now... I can't believe it, but it has been nine months. Time flys when writing. I'll be updating again tomorrow:D Thanks again.


	30. Phoenix Lint

Disclaimer: I can only dream of owning the Hunger Games... Well, no I can't even really do that it's so impossible.

Okay! Mild language in this. It might be worse than I think it is, but hey! I go to a public American high school. Even the teachers curse.

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Phoenix Lint (Age 18) female – District 12

"Time is an illusion." The whisper barely escapes the young girl's lips, but the echo of the sound in the white void is enough to creep me out.

The arena this year is like no other. Clocks, just floating, suspended in air. They are the only color aside the tributes. Clear platforms allows one to navigate through the nothingness, the nothingness with no defined barriers: No up, no down, no left, no right, just clocks and the Cornucopia, which has shed its trademarked golden composition for that of silver. One wrong step and you go tumbling down until you hit another platform or clock. Or maybe you are even unlucky enough to hit another tribute.

Everything, besides the clocks, is white or clear. Everyone dons white, soundless slippers; light, white, tight-fitting pants; white, long-sleeved, close-hugging shirts; thin, white gloves to cover any skin remaining on the hands; white scarf to cover the mouth; finally, a white cap to cover the top of the head. The only skin showing is that around our eyes. Like ninjas, said my designer. Whatever those are.

White ninjas released into a white void of clocks. The clocks provide life. Some hold water; some hold beds, some food, some weapons. It was quickly realized that the Cornucopia held nothing aside shelter. Or perhaps there was more. It was just clear. I didn't stay long enough to find out. We hide in the clocks, in this vacuum of color. Aside the red. The blood stains our clothes, the steps, the clocks. All feces and urine disappears, crumbs of finished meals. Everything disappears by nightfall except the blood. The horrible, blood, splattered mercilessly across the surfaces from all the murdered children…

The clocks strike twelve, and only twelve. That is how we know when it is night, when it is day. Eerily echoing throughout the arena, it singles when the anthem would start, it counted our routine. It allowed some form of sanity, some order from the colorless asylum, a way to make sure that things are still real. And everything has seemed real. Until now.

I swat away a small wristwatch which has drifted into my vision. I watch for a minute, as it swivels away as if in some liquid. "For all you know I could be dead." I turn back to the girl now. _For all you know I could be dead,_ could they do that? Could they remake the dead tributes into mutants to torture the living? "I could have died a long time ago, and they are just waiting for you to hurt me. To take me out like the threat I am. Then I will kill you."

I try to rack my brain for who this little girl is. All the events of the past week or weeks seem to blend together in my memory. I see a few glints of red hair escaping from under her cap, which leads me to assume she is District 5. The horrible red of blood… NO! I will not think of that now. It is just hair, not blood. But the question is, if she is District 5, is that tribute dead yet? Urr… Why must it be so difficult to remember? "You're not dead. You're District 5. You haven't died yet." I speak easily, whispering as she does. If my statement is true, I can only wonder.

"Yes I have. Remember, District 12 girl stuck me with a knife." Now I was really scraping the edge of my brain to figure out what was going on.

I look to my feet, as if the answer is planted there. "No… that was District 7 who was killed by the knife."

"W-What? W-W-Why would you say that? You're District 7!" I look back to her, surprised that her eyes actually contained genuine shock.

Anger seeps through me, and I know that my cheeks would have added more red to this arena if they had been showing. "What are you doing? Are you trying to mess with my head or something? I am not District 7! District 7 is dead!"

"Okay, are you playing with me now? W-Why are you doing this? I'm only twelve! I died by District 12's knife! I was the first to die! Not you!" The girl is stumbling backwards now, trying to get away from me.

"No, I am positive it was District 7, she's dead. Maybe not the first to die. Definitely not the last, once I'm through with you." My voice is eerily low and steady as I take slow, powerful steps towards the girl.

"No, it wasn't. You are still alive. The Gamemakers sent me to kill you." I lunge at the girl before she has the chance to get up. Such an easy target since she was already collapsed half-way onto the ground.

I start to shake her frail form by the shoulders. "Are you trying to make me go insane you little bitch? I know that District 7 was killed."

"You are District 7!" She screams back, her voice shaking with her body.

"No. I'm District 12." I run my knife along the little girl's throat, ignoring the pleading in her eyes, and try to turn away before the blood starts to gush. Then, the unthinkable happens. Instead of a cannon firing, her body dissolves like a hologram. Before I can utter a word of shock, I feel the cold blade of a sword come to rest across my neck.

"So, you're District 12." The deep male voice comes behind me, and his warm breath comes into my uncovered ears.

My eyes become the size of saucers instantly. My brain has to work quickly. "No, didn't you just hear her? I'm District 7."

A shiver runs down my spine as he lets out a booming laugh. He is still snickering while he says, "I thought District 7 was the first to die?"

"I-I said that to mess with her head." Now I feel as if I am messing with my own head.

"Oh, really, Iliad? Then how come I saw you die before my eyes?"

My eyes shut close in defeat. "Ah, fuck. So you are also District 7?"

"That is correct, District 12. You killed my best friend's little sister. She was fourteen. I promised I would be the one to kill her murderer."

My brows furrow together, trying to understand what he just said. "Wait, what would have happened if you killed her, then would you commit suicide?" I never get my answer, and the sword tightens its grip on my neck. A little too tight. I fall on the clear platform as the blood seeps out from the fatal neck wound. The horrible, horrible blood. Just another splatter in an ocean of murder and deceit. And here, I am dying in my worst fear. And here, I died in my worst fear.

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Hum... does anyone else get the impression that Phoenix has lost her mind? Well good, that was the intention. I haven't made someone go crazy in a while. This, though, is by far my favorite arena I have come up with. Yet, I still have three more stories to write! Suggestions anyone? ^^ Even if you don't have any, it's cool. I have an over-active imagination. I'll think of something- oh, wait, I just did. I need two more story suggestions! Ha-ha. Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me. It will mean even more if you review *wink**wink*. Speaking of which, I would like to thank xXKillerxxCupcakeXx, hungergamesfan51, and LunaPadma for reviewing my last chapter! And to anyone who actually takes the time to read this! You girls/guys are the best! I shall return once again tomorrow!


	31. Carson Oaks

Disclaimer: I have become quite fond of saying that I do not own the Hunger Games.

This character talks like a sailor, if you know what I mean. No pun intended. No idea why so many of my characters are cursing lately...

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Carson Oaks (Age 16) – District 7

Sail boats. We are in sail boats. And I've been barfing my guts out since the games have begun. Must've raised the sea level by at least a foot I've puked so much. Seasickness. Of all the damned things in this world to die of, I am probably going to die of dehydration. I lean over the edge of the boat and let another round of the putrid liquid into the sea. Glad I'm not drinking this water. Feel sorry for the poor bloke stupid enough to. Death by vomit: Now that, that is reality T.V. folks, The Hunger Games, nothing like them in the world.

Well, it could be worse. I could be dead by now. There was a fifty percent chance I was going to die the very instant I entered the arena. Everyone was lifted into this lovely landless arena and placed in stupid boats, which basically ensured that everyone, except the District 4s, was screwed over. Stupid Capitol. Always picking favorites. But did they stop there? Hell no. Two tributes per boat. Better work up a negotiation fast. Sixty seconds. Excellent practice for any competitive debate team.

_"Okay, class! Today we are going to practice negotiation skills, 'cause sometimes you just need to meet in the middle! So, each of you have sixty seconds. If you can't convince your partner to agree with you, you better hope you're the stronger one!"_

Poor, fumbling District 3. She didn't stand a chance. Despite her efforts to team up, as soon as the gong rung, I was on her neck. _Snap!_ Death in an instant, and the girl's body was thrown overboard. She didn't die in vain, of course. Capitol forbid anyone ever dies in vain. Turns out it takes at least two people to work the sailboat. And that's if you know what you are doing. That would not be me. Lucky for me, I wasn't the only one who realized this a little too late. So there more than half the living tributes were, unable to move. All the weaklings of the Games who didn't kill their boating partner were speeding towards the Cornucopia. The irony. They took all vital items, only leaving the small change for our pickings as it tauntingly slowly moved our way in the current.

By some miracle I managed to get the boat to work; it involved tying ropes to other ropes in a blob of string. I didn't know if I was supposed to do that, or what I was supposed to do when I had to change the direction that the boat floated in. Whatever. The next day I found there are abandoned boats everywhere. One that I saw was a smaller, one-man sail boat. It even had food and water. Score. The only thing it didn't have was that giant screen T.V. and the video game consul which was back in the Capitol, but, hey, I'm not one to complain. It would be nice though.

Anyways, back to the creepy skeleton boats. Yeah, did I forget to mention that? A fog covers the whole sea, only going away when the sun is at its highest. The lights on the boats illuminate them like skeletons. Creepy, right? Well, you can never tell if that next boat is going to be abandoned or full of tributes ready to ransack you. Fun. Adds an amusing element of mystery. Not.

So I have no idea if that black motorboat zooming towards me from only a hundred meters away is occupied or not. Judging by the straightness of the line, I'm guessing it's not empty. Shit. I duck down in a ball and try to make myself as small as possible, hoping they hadn't seen me. But my stomach lurches. And there is no way I am throwing up in this boat. I leap to the edge of the boat and let my insides spew into the water. Again. It is just in time to see the boat's passenger through something into my boat, rocking it with the sickening sound of splintering wood. No problem, right? Wrong. I now have a canon ball sized hole in my deck. Double shit. But what good would it be to sink my boat? There are plenty in this area. But I want to save my boat, no matter the cost.

The water is already up to my ankles when I feel the burning sensation. Not a light tingle of flames caressing your leg sensation, but a fire consuming your leg sensation. I lift one of my feet and see the shoe has been burned off, and now the skin was peeling. Acid. There was no way in Hell I had thrown up enough to put that much stomach acid in the water. Or was there? No. It must have been like that from the beginning, it's not like I actually touched the water. It's a possibility, right? No matter the reason, I have to get this water out. All I have is my hands, and after a few minutes I realize they will get me nowhere. The skin is bubbling painfully and the water is to my knees. I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. My eyes are watering. I swear it's from the acidic fumes! I don't cry. Men do not cry.

"Ah, fuck this shit!" I yell out into the fog. I get to the edge of the boat and jump into the water. I try to make a mad swim to the nearest boat. Ever try to swim in acid? I suggest you don't. It's harder than molasses. Not that I've tried swimming in molasses, but, you know. Not only is your skin being dissolved from your body, but you also get dragged underneath the acid. Ever have your eyes open in a pool of acid? Of course you haven't, and I suggest you don't. They turn to jelly as soon as they make contact. It hurts like hell. And as soon as you open your mouth to scream in pain, all that acid goes racing down your jugular.

All you can do is claw with your now bony fingers as your internal organs dissolve. That doesn't help. Screaming doesn't help. Crying in pain doesn't help. Even staying still doesn't help. And soon, your whole body burns. You become happy that you can't see it happen. Each cell leaving might as well be an atomic bomb. And it's so slow— it gets even slower when you stop moving – yet, time moves so fast. And you just lay there thrashing around as you burn and die. It's only when you wish for death – beg for it – does it seem to end. And your last thought might as well be _at least Hell can't be any worse than this._

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I have never really made an evil person die... as in truly evil. I base this off of my bro. Not saying he is evil, but he isn't the nicest or smartest cookie in the cookie jar. Anyway, the next will be epic, thanks to an idea I got yesterday from a review (the person will be revealed tomorrow). Speaking of reviews! xXKillerxxCupcakeXx, Batooo, LunaPadma, Pinneappletrampoline, LeoLeon, and Persephone's flower, I would like to say thank you for reviewing! It warms my heart knowing there are people out there reading, all whom I would love to thank for taking the time to read my story! I know I say this same thing every time, but seriously, you guys are amazing!


	32. Wren Byrd

Disclaimer: I shall never have the luck to own even a fraction of the Hunger Games.

Dedicated: Okay, the idea for this arena (which is ingeniously epic) was thought of by Batooo (Dude, once again, genius).

Also, Realityshowfan, you wanted asked for one more twelve-year-old to kill a Career.

With that said, let the battle begin!

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Wren Byrd (Age 18) female – District 6

Okay. Normal people would be frightened if they had to jump onto a giant bird's back. Most people would probably run away and scream in terror. But not me, I'm smarter than that. I'm stronger than that, so even if the giant possibly man-eating bird did try to eat me, I would be able to fight it. I trained for it. So when this massive flock of massive birds flew over the canyon, and this giant falcon landed in front of me with my District's number painted in a red over its chest, I drew my sword. And right then, on a narrow ledge on the canyon wall with the hot, bright sun beating down on my sweating brow, I realized. These things weren't mutations sent by the Gamemakers to harm us. They were sent by the Gamemakers to help us. We were supposed to ride the freaky giant birds.

As it just so happens, giant birds aren't the easiest things in the world to ride. But, after three days, I've figured out the basics. Or at least I think, or maybe I should say hope. The birds know how to respond to simple commands as well as think on their own in midair combat, such as going upside down so you can slice your opponents head off. They only respond to the commands of their District's tributes. If you aren't in its District, it will turn on you and rip your head off. Or from what I've seen. But that is the problem. I can't see anymore. This morning my vision started to fill with black dots, and after a few hours, I could see nothing. I have no idea why it happened, I mean, sure it is sweltering hot, and I haven't had anything to drink since yesterday, but it can't be dehydration yet.

No matter the cause, I've had to rely on my ears for the past few hours, along with a few scattered images from my eyes, hoping this odd occurrence will pass. I'm fine relying on my ears. Giant birds aren't the quietest things in the world. And fighting on a giant bird, this is starting to get challenging. I'm only able to deflect blows as the last minute. Whom I am engaging in midair combat I may never know; just that they are as good with an axe as I am with a sword, which is saying a lot. And they are quieter than the birds. I can't tell what they are doing. So I have to get them talking.

"What District are you? Must be 12 because you fight worse than a two year old!" The taunts which come out of my mouth are foreign, awkward even. I lift my sword to a position that I can maneuver easily for an opposing attack. But the attack never comes.

"Ha! I'm the twelve-year-old from D. 7 that's going to kick your butt!" The high pitched squeak belongs to a young male, and suddenly I'm flushed with embarrassment. I'm being matched by a twelve-year-old, this should be easy. But it means that he stands out in the Games, something I would have been able to _see_ – I hope he can't piece together what my weakness is. Well, not weakness but handicap. He doesn't seem the brightest, especially if he responded to me that quickly.

Because I heard where his head is, my main goal, and I lunge for it. Lunging for it involves propelling myself to the side so one foot is on the tip of the other bird's wing, and somehow I manage. Standing on two wings that don't entirely move simultaneously is a difficult task. It's even harder to fight in this condition, and after two minutes of attack and deflection, I am consumed in exhaustion. Strike to the head, it's met by a block to from the axe. Lop at the neck; the axe lops at my arm. Five minutes, and only a few scratches are present on the both of us. I'm tired, and it will be any second before the boy realizes all he has to do is make his bird move and I will fall to my death. I take a deep panting breath and pass my sword from my right hand to my left and make a wild swing at the head area.

He doesn't expect this, and can't block this broad angle of attack; he just manages to catch the tip of my sword, but not by enough. So I don't think I made contact with his head, but the inhumane scream shortly afterwards gives me the hint that I made contact with something. Victory is near. I lean back to my bird.

My bird looses altitude, making me tumble after it due to gravity. It must be noticing that I need a short respite. Unfortunately I'm still unable to see and I can't tell if this is a possible theory, for the boy could have lost altitude as well. I need to find out where he is. "It should be 'who's' not 'that's'. Did you go to school? Or do you just stand around chopping trees all day?" I don't know if I expect an answer or not, it depends where I hit him. He might not even be there anymore, but his bird is there somewhere.

_Boom! _I freeze in place at the sound of the cannon. For a second I process all possibilities, but there was only one likely outcome. The boy must be dead. I let out a sigh of relief and let my shoulders relax. I still feel the beating sun on my closed eyelids, and the sweltering heat causes every inch of my body to perspire, making me pant even heavier. "Who were you talking to, Wren?" I jerk my head to the side where the voice comes from. I let out a gasp when I see who it is. Not only has my vision returned, but my District partner is flying alongside me.

"Um, oh, that was District 7." I try to offer a smile, in hopes that I can maybe team up with the bigger and stronger boy. But he just nods slowly with a blank expression on his face.

"Really? And did you notice what your bird number is after that little trick you pulled?" My eyebrows scrunch together as I try to comprehend what he just said. "It's 7. Unless you want your head ripped off, I think you should abandon ship, so to speak." My eyes go wide with realization. Of course I can't see my number, but I would trust Keiro with my life.

"P-Please Keiro, can I hop on your bird? Please!" I pant in desperation, wanting to go before the bird notices I'm not its District. But why hasn't it eaten me yet?

"Why should I, Wren? Better think fast. Maybe jump to the canyon floor? It's not that far down?" I shake my head, but I don't know what else to do. I heave myself off the bird and prepare for a short freefall, about ten feet from what I can see.

100 feet later, my vision does return. I see the darkened outline of a small child on a giant bird holding his shoulder, and another outline of a falcon. Hovering without and owner, and a realization hits me for the second time. There was no cannon fire. Keiro was never here. It was a hallucination. But I know the rocks at the bottom aren't a hallucination. I try to inhale a deep breath, but I can't. Doesn't matter now anyways; the rocks pierce through my chest and head, and I can only wish that it is my imagination.

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Mwahaha! I loved this chapter. For those of you who don't know, Wren was experiencing the early signs of heat stroke. Well, my friends, only one chapter after this, and I'm both excited and sad for tomorrow. Thank you to all who have read so far. Thanks to Batooo (Genius, dude, genius), MeanZombieQueen, and xXKillerxxCupcakeXx for reviewing my previous chapter! Thanks to everyone who has read, and maybe you can click that review button down there and tell me what you think! See you (metaphorically) tomorrow!


	33. Morning Rose

Disclaimer: Well, for the last time, I do not own the Hunger Games (I might be in the movie if I get an agent though)

Dedicated: MeanZombieQueen, this is your character with a few modifications,

xXKillerxxCupcakeXx, this is your arena,

and finally, everyone who has read this whole thing, it means a lot.

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Morning Rose (Age 12) female – District 3

I sit at the edge of the meadow, the colorful giant five-foot flowers dance around me in the morning sun. My curly black hair brushes itself against my chubby cheeks and I try to keep another tear from slipping. The effort is futile. I shouldn't be here. I'm twelve, I'm fat, I'm weak, I'm slow, and I can't survive. Where would I learn to survive in District 3? We make electronics. As far as I'm concerned, electronics are the exact opposite of nature. Of course, this isn't exactly nature. I doubt there are poison daisies and giant bugs in nature. I shudder at the memory of the boy being consumed by the prey mantis, and the girl dropping dead after an innocent sniff of a flower.

I let out a sigh, rise to my feet, and make my way out of the giant flower forest. I break the boundary into the meadow, where the stems of a million short flowers brush against my legs as I walk. I look at the surrounding forest one last time and start to move slowly to the center of the meadow. Maybe someone will see me and shoot me quick, it would be better than the starvation which is already creeping into my stomach. I don't know why I haven't died yet. I all but walked in slow motion away from the Cornucopia yesterday. Slow and fat. Those are the two most common words I hear back in the District to describe me.

_"Well, I don't know why we handle reapings the way we do. If it were up to me, I would make it so the least efficient person in the District had to volunteer." The other girls surrounding Isadora broke out into uncontrolled giggling. They knew what she was about to say. So did I. "So, looks like her fatness herself, Morning Rose has chosen to volunteer!" The other twelve-year-olds' giggling turns to laughter as their friend falls into the Capitol accent. _

_"I'm right here, Isadora." I whispered, hoping that she wouldn't pick up what I just said._

_"Oh! You learned to comprehend sentences now? Well, looks like I have to dump all the dumb jokes. Darn. Oh, don't look so happy yet. You're still fat. Aw! Now the little baby is crying." _

I still remember the look on Isadora's face when I volunteered for her: Shock. I know I'm not going back there now, and she can never say those things to my face again. Though now all the things she said are proving true. I have a 0% chance of surviving, and everyone in the arena knows that. Even if I did manage to make it back, what good does it do? No one is waiting for me, cheering me on, or sending me gifts. No one wants me home, so why don't I give that opportunity to someone else? I let myself fall down to the ground, crushing the flowers in what must seem like an earthquake to them since I'm so fat.

I lie there, staring at the sky, waiting for someone to come along and pick me off. Anyone, even a fellow twelve-year-old can finish me now. I won't even fight back. I lie here, next to the beautiful rose bush, wishing that the beauty could belong to me. The name is mine, but anything can take on a name and be nothing. Here I am, fat, dumb, ugly sharing the same name as these poisonous, beautiful, slender, perfect flowers. I lift my hand and let one rest in the palm.

My mother always told me that roses are the epitome of beauty. She would always stop by the rose bush outside the Justice Building and smell the flowers. I think the bush felt neglected once she died because it too faded away into a distant memory. I pluck the red flower off the bush and bring it to my nose, inhaling the sweet, deadly aroma. The poison is quick at its work, and I let out a sigh of relief, happy that I took the time on my last day to stop and smell the roses.

_S~i~l~v~e~r_

Gladiolus Cyclamen (Age 13) male – District 10

I look around the girl's body but find nothing. No food, no water: No supplies. Nothing of which can be use to help my own survival. I consider briefly the possibility of turning her over to see if there is anything underneath her, but she is much too fat. I would never manage on my own. The curious thing about her now is that I can't find how she died. I was in the tall flowers when I heard the cannon fire, and I knew the girl was in the meadow.

I didn't see her and I knew she couldn't have gone far, so I ran out to the center. And I found her body lying here, right next to a red rose bush. There is no one else in the area, there are no fatal wounds marking her skin, there is no blood pool, as she should be lying in one. There is no hint on how she died. My nose wrinkles together as I try to think of some explanation, but my mind comes up short. There is simply no answer. Maybe she just sat down here and died of a heart attack from physical exertion, she certainly doesn't seem the type to be used to moving around. Yes, that is probably the most logical explanation.

I let out a sigh and plop down on the dirt next to the body. I suppose it would smell weird, but the alluring aroma of the rose bush overshadows it. I reach over to the girl and slide her eyelids shut. It gave her the appearance of sleeping. "You're lucky you know," I say thoughtfully to the corpse, "your death doesn't seem like it was that painful. And it's over. I will probably kill myself in anticipation for my death. I'm scared a giant bug will swallow me whole at any minute. I'm almost envious." I look up at the blue sky and allow a rare grin to etch itself onto my face.

"It's beautiful here. The smell is sweet and calming. Whoever thought of this, they must be a genius. Evil, knowing children will die here. But it is a genius design. Giant flowers? Giant bugs? It gives a since of how small we are, how helpless. And this meadow, it still gives us control over something, somewhere where we can be the biggest. And to be surrounded by color when you die, it almost makes the murder seem justified. If I were to die anywhere I would rather it here than back on the pastures at home. It smells like cow crap there." I look back to the unresponsive corpse and notice the rose in its hand.

I reach over and grab it, twirling it in my fingers. It is a pretty flower, but why was she holding it? I'm about to lift the flower to my nose when the shadow falls over me. I look up hesitantly to see the towering body of the prey mantis. My heart falls. It is rubbing its odd incisor like hands together. I know from watching it back home that it will attack soon. I know there is no escape. And who am I to deny myself one last pleasure in life? I lift the rose up to my nose and take a whiff of the enchanting smell. As soon as the scent touches my nose, I feel the consciousness dragged away from me. Poison, the flower is poison. _Pick your poison _the saying always seemed irrelevant. I think I understand now. I pick flower.

_The End_

These are the stories of another fallen. These are the stories of another victim. Just another dead in the world of death: Nothing outstanding, nothing special. They are not ones whom someone would morn years over, not ones whom people will even remember for years to come. There is no reason for their tales to be that of Victory, but, no reason for them to not be. These are the stories of the dead; this is the other half of the Hunger Games.

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Okay, so I hope you enjoyed (The random silver is because nothing will show up unless it has letters). This is the last one, so I made it two deaths. 33 chapters and 35 deaths. Thank you all for reading. And, you want to know a secret? Well, it's not a secret, but today's my 15th birthday. So you want to click the little review button down there and tell me what you think about the chapter/story in whole, and what your favorite death was? It'll make my day =D. I'd like to thank you all who have stuck with this story, when I started there were maybe 200 Hunger Games fics, now there are close to 1,600. You have a lot of choices out there now, and I'd like to thank you for reading Knives Fall. Until I think of another story, this is goodbye. Unless, of course, by some random act of fate I become casted in The Hunger Games movie, but, until then, this is Lauren signing out.

- Silverstardust, a.k.a. Lauren


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